


A loose bolt of a complete machine

by chailattemusings



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, injury cw, robot!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 83,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chailattemusings/pseuds/chailattemusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is an engineer at The University of Austin, Texas, and has been assigned to work with a team of fellow engineers and computer scientists to build a robot that resembles a human being as closely as possible. They aren’t the first team to build a human automaton, but they could be the first to create a robot capable of human emotions.</p>
<p>(formerly titled: I Will Build A Heart For You)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The project started out simple. Build an automaton with an AI system that could function similar to a human being. Nothing new.

The first human like automaton was built by, who else, Japan, several decades before. Technology improved every day, and soon robots cropped up around the world, more and more like humans as scientists and engineers worked close together to develop intelligent systems and hopefully produce an automaton independent enough that it could serve humans efficiently and well. That was always the goal, to make machines that would take away human labor, and a machine that was shaped and functioned just like a person meant thousands of hazardous jobs could be done and no people would be risked for them.

Because of this, Michael Jones took his job seriously. He was as good an engineer as any other, and felt privileged to work on something considered so important. While the others in his field worked on factory machines and designed desktops, Michael got to be around computer scientists, psychologists, and senior professors at one of Austin’s best universities. It was no Harvard, but they were more focused on nuclear fusion anyway, and that bored Michael to tears. He would much rather get his hands dirty with the ins and outs of robotics.

A year into the project, they had the skeleton of a body assembled. Michael didn’t work on the robot every day; he serviced the other areas of the science department in a prompt nine to five schedule on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But the other three workdays, he was in a lab with four or five other scientists at a time, discussing logistics and materials for the body they built, as well as the capabilities of movement communicated through the AI.

Michael looked forward to another day of it, walking in the lab late Monday morning and giving a soft smile to their work, resting on a long table in the middle of the room. They finally finished connecting the limbs last month, and the robot looked like a human. A skinless, hairless human made of titanium, but still. Theoretically, if they plugged in the AI, its jaw would move and the voice box would produce sound based on the speech program. That would be today’s test for their speech programmer.

“Hey, stranger.” Michael felt a pat on his back, turned to see one of his coworkers, half her blond hair hanging to the right side of her head, the other half shaved off, and tattoo sleeves peeking out from under her actual sleeves.

Michael smiled in return. “Hi, Griffon. How’s the rest of the body design coming along?”

“Pretty good.” She moved around the numerous tables and pieces of equipment to a computer on a table at the far wall. “I wanted to give him sort of a wild look, so I designed his hair yesterday. It sticks up a lot.”

“Hair is the last part.” Michael sidled beside her as Griffon sat in a wheeled chair, spinning once before she turned the computer on and logged in. “Have you designed the facial structure yet?”

“Don’t take me for a fool, Michael.” Griffon stuck her tongue at him. “Of course I did. I had to design the whole head to see how the hair looked.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “How could I forget.”

“How could you,” Griffon agreed, entering the access code to bring up the robot’s visuals.

The team in charge decided from the start to make the robot male. It had nothing to do with favoring men— Griffon and Geoff both voted for a woman initially, although Michael suspected Geoff’s vote had more to do with influencing Griffon on how she would look— but rather, it was influenced by the gender ratio of robots thus far. A lot of labs built female robots because their wide hips and rounded thighs balanced the body better. Men, with their strong chests, were top heavy and harder to design. After hearing this information, Griffon flipped her vote, accepting the challenge easily. Michael saw the rough designs as they were building the body; the robot had a thinner build with longer legs. He argued this would mean more room for falling, but Griffon assured him being tall would help.

The skull of the robot was the final part to make. Griffon waited until the last minute to design his face. A thin layer of metal served as base for synthetic muscle and skin everywhere else but the head had yet to be applied. “Did Ryan finish the rest of the base skin?”

“Last night, stayed late.” Griffon was already deep in her work, if her sentence fragments were any indication. Michael moseyed back over to peek over her shoulder. “What’s with his giant fucking nose?”

Griffon’s lips quirked in a smirk, even as she altered the face again. “If he has to look human, he needs flaws. Too much perfection and we cross into the uncanny valley. Besides, it works on him.”

“Hmph.” Michael wrinkled his own nose as he looked at the robot’s. “Your decision.”

Despite their status as married, Geoff came to work much later than Griffon, due to dropping their daughter off with a babysitter combined with picking up Ray from his house. The two strolled in thirty minutes later, Geoff carrying his homemade lunch in a Marvel Comics lunch box, the only evidence Michael ever saw of his secret comic obsession. He kissed Griffon’s cheek before donning the plastic glasses he needed to work on welding metal parts together. “I wouldn’t get too excited,” Michael warned him. “Until Ryan’s here, we can’t finish the skull base. I don’t know where he left the equipment.”

“Aw, man.” Geoff took off his glasses with far more dissatisfied drama than was necessary, and moved to sit beside his wife to discuss design ideas until he could wield the welding torch.

Ray looped an arm around Michael’s shoulder. “Ready for another day of building the masturbot?”

Michael shoved him off, chuckling at the bad joke. “The last thing it’s going near is my, or anyone’s, dick, and I’ve told you that a million fucking times.”

“But it’s such an opportunity!” Ray protested, hands in the air as though he could convince Michael by drawing persuasion from the sky. Michael opened his mouth to protest. At that moment, the door opened again, and their senior engineer walked in looking haggard.

“Whoa, dude.” Michael cocked his head. “How late were you here?”

“Two,” Ryan muttered. “And the baby kept waking up at home. I got the skull finished, though. We can assemble the pieces and attach it to the head, if Griffon’s done designing. I left the structure plain in case she wanted to change things.”

“Sorry about the baby.” Michael nodded at Griffon, thinking to himself he was glad he didn’t have a family to take care of. He was barely an adult himself. “Ask her about the face, she made his nose fucking enormous.”

“It is not,” Griffon said, glaring playfully. “It adds charm.”

“No, it’s enormous.” Geoff tapped the screen where the planned face of their robot was displayed. “Look at the size, Christ.”

Griffon swatted his arm, as Ryan stepped close to look at it, too. “She’s right, it’s kinda cute.”

Geoff and Michael both balked at that. Ray, giving not a single fuck, moved to another computer to continue his work on the speech program. Gus would come in later to double check it, as their senior adviser on the AI program, but Ray proved himself capable time and time again, and as they moved through the project, Gus felt the need to check his work less and less.

Michael followed Ryan when he left Geoff and Griffon to their tasks, to another room where they stored and worked with the raw materials that would become parts of the robot. Geoff would eagerly torch and weld anything that couldn’t be held together with screws and chemicals. Until then, it was Ryan and Michael’s jobs to put the robot together.

The basic facial pieces were indeed there. Ryan booted the computer they had in their separate back office to load the design plans. Michael brushed his fingers over the pieces meant to be the robot’s face. Some pieces were put together, others indeed left as plain squares and rectangles of metal they could shape according to Griffon’s instructions. Ryan brought the plans up, an intricately detailed schematic of a human face popping up. It looked vaguely like what Griffon had, and Michael guessed she stayed a bit late herself to work with him on it.

“Well,” he said, grinning at the design, which they could finally finish and put on their robot’s body over the next week or two, “let’s get started.”


	2. Chapter 2

The speech program worked perfectly. The speech program had worked perfectly.

The speech program had worked perfectly, until Griffon got her filthy little paws on it.

In the two weeks it took to finish off the robot’s facial structure, Michael and Ray spent countless hours testing the AI’s voice capabilities. They stood alone in the lab yet again, running the voice box functions for the tenth time in the last few days. They would spend twenty minutes imputing codes manually through the computer every time they added a new piece around the head, to ensure no operations were interrupted by the added metal. Tedious, but necessary.

“How many more fucking times we gotta do this?” Michael asked, penciling in the date and time on a sheet of paper snapped to a clipboard. It was rhetorical; he asked the question out of boredom and would get the same answer from Ray he always got.

“A couple times a week, at least, until the robot’s finished.” Ray typed BASIC and JavaScript absently in the program’s system, glancing over old code for mistakes. “I’d rather figure out sooner than later if something breaks so we don’t have to take the entire thing apart to find out what happened.”

As true as that was, it didn’t stop it from numbing Michael’s mind. He didn’t get to build machines or design anything doing this, he wrote numbers on paper, numbers he’d been repeating since Ray and Ryan built the damn voice box.

All right, so building a humanized robot wasn’t always as glamorous as Michael thought it should be.

“Commencing first test,” Ray mumbled, typing the command code and a complete list of the alphabet, the primary way of ensuring the robot could pronounce sounds correctly. Michael sketched an idle doodle on the margins of the paper while the command loaded through the program and transferred to the robot via a thick cable. When they finished the AI, they could install it on a hard drive in the robot’s head that served as a synthetic brain. For now, wires. Lots and lots of wires.

As the lips opened, not yet built to move like human lips and instead simply parting to create a thin ‘O,’ a voice halfway between human and simulated computer sound escaped, metallic twang scraping at its edges, and recited its ABCs the way Ray told it to.

The men froze as the robot’s voice started, “A, b, c, …” in an accent that was distinctly not American. Michael turned to Ray, dumbfounded. “What. The. Fuck,” he said, and looked again at the robot. “Why the fuck is it British?”

His head whipped around again with a glare directed at Ray, accusing. “The fuck did you do to it!? We’re not having a fucking spot of tea with this thing!”

“I dunno!” Ray said, hands up defensively. “I haven’t touched the speech program since the last test! I haven’t even been in the lab for three days!”

The door on the other side of the room slammed. Both men turned to see Griffon, strolling in wearing battered jeans and a t shirt, which she covered with her coat the minute she stepped in to meet the mandatory requirement of covered arms and legs in the lab at all times. “Another voice test?” she asked, eyes drifting to the robot. The sounds coming from his mouth, the way the sounds curved around each letter in an unfamiliar way, made her beam. “It worked!” she squealed like a fucking five year old, Michael’s eyebrows twisting with befuddlement, and then anger.

“You!” he screeched. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

Griffon booped the robot’s nose with pride, the most obvious part of her design on his face, as he finished speaking the alphabet with, “x, y,” and goddamn fucking, “zed.” Michael’s teeth clenched. No American in the history of ever said fucking ‘zed.’

“Griffon,” he warned at her lack of answer.

“Oh, right.” She spun on her heels from the robot to face him. “Gus helped me modify the program with an English accent a couple days ago. I thought it would be cute.”

“We’re not gonna get taken seriously,” Ray complained, arm swung over the back of his chair. “Deviating too much will get our grant taken away.”

“Pish,” Griffon waved a hand. “Gus said he didn’t care what the voice sounded like, and you know if he doesn’t care, it’s not important.”

Michael and Ray glanced at each other. They really had no argument for that. All the same, Michael begged, “Please tell someone on the project before changing anything else.”

“Gus is—”

“Someone who’s here more than once a month,” Michael clarified.

Griffon shrugged and moved to her precious computer to start the designs on the artificial skin the robot would soon be wearing. “To be fair, Geoff knew, too. He just didn’t tell you guys.”

Michael ignored her, waving at Ray as he double checked the numbers on his paper. Ray understood the wordless command and repeated the alphabet sequence, Michael checking off boxes that he missed the first time in his complete and utter shock that, in all honesty, shouldn’t have shocked him so much. Everyone knew from day one Griffon would be messing with the robot as far as she could get away with without losing their funding. The sound of the English accent repeating the letters grated on Michael’s ears, but he stared at the paper and did his best to focus on the subject of the voice commands and not the irritatingly pleasant way each sound rolled out of the robot’s mouth.

* * *

Two months, and few mishaps later, they finished applying the skin.

Geoff and Griffon teamed together for mischief the second time around, begging to give the automaton a legion of tattoos up and down his arms to mirror their own. “We’re designing him,” Geoff argued at Michael’s glare. “We’re kind of like his parents, we should get a say in it.”

Michael almost snapped his pen in half. “Ryan and I are building him, Ray and Gus are making the brain function. You guys are aesthetics, and I’ll be fucking damned if that alone gives you enough credit to shower him in ink. No.”

“Michael—” Griffon begged, in the sweet voice she only used when she wanted to get her way.

“The dean of the school will fire us!” Michael seethed. “This is his prized work, no one will want to see what it does if it has tattoos. You know that as well as I do, now shut up about it.”

Griffon stuck her lip out, and Geoff did the half frown, half beg his face contorted into because he wanted to be polite and ask for something without losing his manly bravado, one hand brushing Griffon’s back to comfort her. Michael refused to relent, and said, “I will personally go over the skin while Ryan and I apply it, and if I see one piece of ink, I’m kicking your asses.”

“Excuse me?” Geoff raised a brow, challenging him.

Michael swallowed. “At the very least I’ll stop talking to you guys.”

That wasn’t true either, but the sentiment was real enough to convince them. Geoff sighed and shrugged, looking at Griffon forlornly. She gazed back and nodded, accepting her fate as though she agreed to lose a limb. Michael growled at their drama, rushing to the back office to find Ryan and beg him to take over the human relations aspect of the job he saddled Michael with more often than not. Coordinating between departments sucked.

Nevertheless, the skin was flawless when Michael found the pieces laid out on a table, Ryan moving them carefully with latex gloves on his hands to prevent dust and oil getting on them. He knew Geoff and Griffon were mostly kidding, they knew as well as anyone how far the customization limits could go, but naturally they asked anyway, on the off chance someone said yes. Michael touched the thick silicone, each slab sized for the limbs they would be fitted to. Griffon took the liberty of attaching the synthetic muscle already, a layer of darker red plastic under the tanned beige tone she chose for the skin. Silicone worked well, soft to the touch and close enough to real skin that no one would notice the difference without extended contact, and it staved off filth well.

Michael dug out the tools he needed to graft plastic and metal, staring at the robot laid on the next table over. First they would heat treat both surfaces, using a lower temperature on the skin to prevent melting it, and get a sterile epoxy to attach them. After, Geoff would get his favorite blow torch and weld the edges where they wouldn’t be seen, like under the armpits and thighs. Finally, they would coat it in a layer of clear industrial glue. Sturdier robots could be made without using synthetic skin to emulate human appearance, and this one would need a tune up every five or so years, but it was their assignment to make it as human as possible, and the team wanted to rise to the challenge.

“How much longer do you think it will take to finish him?” Ryan asked, mostly for idle conversation. They had weekly meetings to estimate the project length, but every day brought new equipment and changing ideas that could shorten or lengthen their stay in the lab.

Michael shrugged. “Another couple months? Ray is almost done with the AI, he said he wanted to tweak it to give the robot a kind of personality, and Griffon’s actually set on helping him with that. I think she has a specific type of person in mind, after how hell bent she was about not changing his face or the dumb accent.”

“Hm.” Ryan got the last of the skin pieces out, the hands and feet. Michael glanced over the layout, mentally cringing at the piece meant to be the robot’s genitals. “She’s not serious about the working penis, is she?” Ryan asked in response to Michael’s reaction.

“As much as the rest of her designs.” Michael sighed. “She wants Ray to get it to respond to certain stimuli. And of course he’s all too fucking eager to help make the ‘masturbot.’”

Ryan laughed, grabbing a couple sections and pushing them around in their proper order, the head pieces at the top of the table and moving down the arms, torso, waist, legs, and feet, until the two could roughly see the layout of the robot within the separate chunks of plastic. “Ray thinks that’s funny, but to me it sounds like a robot bent on ordering others, not a pun of masturbate.”

“It’s a dumb name either way,” Michael said, snorting. “Come on, we gotta get started on this. A couple more months and we’ll have a finished robot. All our hard work will pay off.”


	3. Chapter 3

The day the robot was designated to be turned on, Michael could hardly keep himself still.

The skin application took almost a week, with additions like hair and nails taking up a second week; each hair on the body had to be done individually and took up the most time of any aesthetics. Ray continued working with Gus on the AI during that time.

It was another month of constant voice testing, the British accent grating on Michael less and less, before they started adding the voice command system to the artificial intelligence. If all went well, the robot would hear and recognize their voices, and output the proper responses. It was a smart AI, so it would learn from interactions when they corrected it or told it no. Griffon, not one to let Michael and Ryan get away after her denial of tattoos, made sure to get permission from both Gus and Ray before producing a list of British slang to add to his vocabulary. “To make him sound realistic,” she said in her defense at the look Gus gave her once he’d gone over the list, one of the few days he stuck around the lab. “There’s no way this is real slang over there,” he said, deadpan, but nonetheless kept the list. Sure enough, during the next voice test, the robot did indeed say ‘bloody hell’ when commanded to swear.

It— he— still laid on the table in the lab. Michael stared impatiently as Ray and Ryan worked together on the startup. The motors to make him move were all in place, and had been since they built the skeleton. They tested him plenty in a controlled environment. The issue would be whether the AI would be smart enough to control its own body without scientists to help it along.

Griffon stood to the side with Geoff, drumming her fingers against her arm. “He needs a name,” she said, to break the concentrated silence.

Gus looked up from the paperwork he was checking over at the counter next to Ray. “Didn’t you and Geoff come up with one? We left if up to you guys.”

Griffon bit her lip. “Yes and no.”

“Well which is it?” Michael looked up from his focused stare, almost disoriented at the sight of something other than the incredibly human looking robot on the table. “Don’t tell me that his name is stupid and British, too.”

“No.” Griffon glared at him. Geoff put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She glanced at the robot again. “We were thinking of the name Gavin.”

Michael snorted. “A name with a ‘g’? You guys are getting superficial with this.”

“We are not.” It was Geoff protesting this time. “It means ‘white hawk,’ we thought it was cool as hell. It’s just not common, that’s all. We wondered if you thought it would be a good idea to name him something unusual.”

“I don’t care,” Ray said, nose practically pressed to the computer screen. “Gavin sounds fine.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Gus turned back to his paperwork. “And ‘g’ names are awesome, Michael.”

Backed into a corner by his coworkers, Michael relented. “All right, all right, call him Gavin. It doesn’t matter to me anyway, so long as he works.”

“We’re about to see that, actually.” Ryan stood from where he’d been bent over Ray’s shoulder, stretching. “The AI should be loaded in the brain’s hardware. Michael, can you take the cable out?”

“Ye, boss.” Michael leaned under the stainless steel table’s surface, peering at the underside of the robot’s neck. There, almost too small to notice, was a port for a cable that ran to Ray’s computer. The skin around it would be sealed together after initial startup with a less permanent glue that could be broken if necessary to get to the robot’s access point for repairs. He took the end of the USB and gently tugged it until it popped out, and smoothed the small laceration in the silicone that made the port visible. As soon as they added glue, the cut in the skin would barely be noticeable.

He handed the cable to Ray, who coiled it up and tossed it next to his monitor. “All right.” Ray gulped, unable to hide that he was as nervous as the rest of the team. “Let’s use the command and start him up.” His eyes searched the group. Gus had looked up from his work, but shook his head when Ray looked at him. Ray turned to Geoff and Griffon, both of whom gestured to Ray himself. They wanted a younger tech to have the chance to start such a valuable project. Ray did not want that responsibility, and glanced at Ryan. He smirked, and turned to Michael.

“Hey, Michael, you want to do the honors?”

Michael jumped, having gone back to staring. “What, me?”

Ryan nodded. Michael’s eyes slid to the robot. “Um, sure.”

They all knew the command already. Ray told them as soon as he came up with it, laughing even as he tried to tell them. The play on a popular meme amused him to no end. Michael swallowed, his tongue heavy as he thought of it. Endless months of work, culminated in this moment. And if Michael messed it up, he might never live it down.

“Gavin,” he said, because it felt right to use the automaton’s name, “you only live once.”

Clicks and whirs sounded immediately, as the AI recognized the human command to commence initialization. The motors in various joints activated. Simulated muscles twitched. His eyes fluttered, opening for the first time since Michael and Ryan built them, painted with a plastic glossy surface to make them look moistened like human eyes. They were a hazel green, a pretty color Ryan decided on to avoid prejudices about his looks, from the cliché blue to the boring brown. Hazel was in the middle and pleasant to look at.

They all sucked in a breath as he started moving. Arms shifted back, until the elbows could get proper force to bring his torso up. One of the knees drew his leg off the table, bending it and setting his foot flat on its surface. Michael and Ryan watched his body for anything that stuck or didn’t move properly. Ray and Gus looked at the movements and calculated in their heads if the AI formulas called for every motion. Geoff and Griffon stared at his skin, his hair, all the aesthetics that had potential to break down.

Eventually, the robot sat up, weight on his palms, both feet on the table and knees pulled near his chest. His head went back and forth, a little stiff but not so much that he looked robotic, more like a person who slept on their neck wrong. His eyes settled on Michael first, lids lifting with appropriate surprise. “Hello,” he said, with that comforting accent that sent Ray’s heart soaring, because the AI was using the voice box in exactly the right context. Michael could only stare back, rooted to the spot.

Ryan smacked him in the back. Michael yelped, glared at him, and turned back to the robot. “Um, hi,” he replied. “I’m Michael.”

“Nice to meet you!” The robot smiled in a goofy, crooked way that made Michael’s lips quirk in return. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have information on my name.”

Oh, right. Michael cleared his throat. “Gavin. Your name is Gavin.”

The newly dubbed Gavin nodded his agreement. “Right, then. My name is Gavin.”

“He uses grammar pretty well,” Ryan said, looking at Ray.

“Yeah, aside from the accent and the slang Griffon gave us, we modeled him after our speech, with all the contractions and generalizations.” Ray gestured to the group as a whole. “He shouldn’t sound too awkward, maybe a weird sentence here and there.”

“My name is Gavin.” Gavin had turned to look at Griffon and Geoff now, eyes wide and bright.

“Oh, and some repetition,” Ray added, with a short laugh.

“Geoff,” Geoff said, with a hand pointing at himself, “and my wife, Griffon,” with a point to her. She smiled and waved.

“Geoff and my wife Griffon,” Gavin repeated.

“Okay, no.” Gus got up finally, standing on the side of the table opposite Michael and Ryan. “’My wife’ is a descriptive, Griffon is the name,” he clarified, pointing to Griffon as Geoff had. Gavin glanced between them, and the wheels of his head could practically be seen turning.

“Geoff and Griffon?” he said, voice raised to put a question mark at the end of it. When Gus nodded, Gavin beamed again, and whirled back to Michael. “Michael.” And he turned again. “Geoff, Griffon.”

“He’s learning!” Ryan clapped his hands together in victory. “A+ on the program, guys.”

“We do our best,” Ray said, leaning back in his chair smugly, nose in the air.

Gavin turned, so far that his body almost tilted off the edge of the table, to see Ray sitting behind him. “I’m Gavin,” he said. “What is your name?”

Ray swung his body forward and slammed his chair’s legs back on the floor. Gavin startled as he should, muscles jumping and body shifting even closer to the edge. Michael and Ryan silently marveled at the movement. His hearing functions worked to perfection.

“I’m Ray,” Ray said, and put his hand out. Hand shaking hadn’t been tested yet.

But Gavin did what he was supposed to. Putting the rest of his weight on his left arm, he held out his right and took the hand Ray offered, shaking up and down a couple times, probably harder than necessary, but well enough. Ray laughed again as he took his hand away and Gavin put his own back on the table.

“I’m Ryan.” The senior engineer put his hand out as well, and Gavin shook that, too. When he felt the robot’s hard grip, Ryan decided to test out the learning himself. “Gentler,” he said, putting a second hand over Gavin’s and repeating the hand shake slower, softer. Gavin followed, until he was the one leading the handshake with steady motions. “Good,” Ryan praised.

“And I’m Gus.” Gus moved in front of Gavin to stop him from twisting his body again and falling off the table, but he didn’t offer a handshake. Gavin just repeated, “My name is Gavin.”

“Coherent, able to move, learning,” Michael said, still taking stock of Gavin’s body. “Guys, he works exactly like he should.”

Geoff snorted. “He better, we spent months on the damn thing.”

“Let’s see him walk!” Griffon sidled up to the robot, one hand on his shoulder. “Sweetie, do you think you can get off the table by yourself?”

Gavin merely said, “I’m Gavin,” and pointed at himself the way he saw Geoff and Gus do.

“’Sweetie’ is a nickname,” Gus said with a hint of impatience. “Can you get off the table or not?”

“Yes.” Gavin nodded once, quick and sharp. His hair swayed, and Griffon squealed a little, reaching a hand out to pet it. That made Gavin pause with a confused smile. Rather than process what her actions meant, he obeyed his first command, swinging his legs off the table until they hung bent at the knee. One good push from his arms, and he fell the short distance to the floor.

Everyone’s breath hitched. But Gavin stood firm, after swinging a minute, his arms held out the the side for balance. “I got off the table,” he said, proud, chest slightly puffed out.

“Great.” Ryan pat him gently on the back. With Gavin standing tall, though, Ryan lost his concern for his ability to keep upright as his eyes were drawn to a particular part of his body. “Hey, guys?” he said as he looked at Griffon, and then Geoff still standing to the side.

“Yeah?” Geoff answered for the both of them.

Ryan’s eyes flicked to Gavin’s crotch again. “Can we get him some clothes?”


	4. Chapter 4

Michael’s heart beat fast as he laid out the tools he needed, double checking the weight and condition of each item. Assured that he had everything in order, Michael searched for his pen, and panicked when it wasn’t in his pocket. “Fuck,” he muttered, patting the chest and sides of his shirt, and scrounging the table, missing the simplest thing he needed to start the tests. Dammit, Ryan trusted him to this on the day Michael was by himself in the lab, how could he mess up something as simple as getting a fucking pen?

“What are you doing?”

Of course, just because none of his coworkers were in today, didn’t mean Michael was alone.

Gavin sat on a table in the same room they assembled him in, with the computers on and ready to record the information Michael planned to input in an hour or so, motors whirring, small beeps coming from the speakers every other minute to alert Michael they were still, in fact, on and operational. Gavin himself swung his legs idly back and forth over the table's edge, while Michael scrambled across the counters for a pen. In answer to his question— of which Gavin asked a lot, thanks to Ray’s learning program voicing lack of understanding on any subject introduced to it— Michael said, in a frustrated growl, “I need a pen.”

It took Gavin approximately three seconds of looking around the room to say, “There’s a pen on the table next to the door, Michael.”

Michael whipped up, eyes narrowing when he spotted said utensil. That’s right, he set it down on his way in to free a hand for grabbing the tools. Michael cursed under his breath as he snatched the pen and started scribbling information on the papers laid next to the monitors. For the sake of eliminating all mistakes, they recorded everything by hand first, and copied it to the computer. Anything that didn’t match the data as it should was typically caught on the manual transfer.

“Why do you swear so much?”

That question again. Gavin asked it once before, as Griffon and Geoff dressed him in casual clothes they picked out the week before. Michael and Ryan were fluttering like mother hens around Gavin as he tried to put together the information he had on getting dressed with the actual act of putting clothes on, and Michael swore every time he thought he saw something going wrong. They were all false alarms, but it prompted Gavin asking about his vocabulary.

Michael left it unanswered yesterday and he left it unanswered now, picking up the small rubber hammer laid to the side. “I’m going to test your reflexes. The nerves implanted in the plastic of your skin should respond properly. If it doesn’t, we’ll have to fix it. Understood?” As silly as it felt to ask a robot’s permission, Gavin moved and acted, for the most part, like an actual person, and Michael was compelled to show him some level of respect.

“Got it,” Gavin said. It still impressed Michael how well he used slang and colloquialisms, save for the British words Michael barely knew. Gavin was the picture of a young, adult man, with slouching shoulders, tousled hair, and idle responses like the leg swinging he insisted on now. Perhaps the only unnatural part was the way his eyes stayed fixated on any human in the room. From the moment he woke, Gavin had a tendency to stare, mostly at Michael, the redhead had noted with slight disturbance. Ray said he programmed him with the compulsion to obey commands to avoid machinery that wouldn’t do whatever job they gave to it, so perhaps he was looking for instructions.

Michael gave him some, telling him, “Hold your legs still.”

“Okay, Michael.” Gavin stopped all leg movement immediately, grinning like he expected praise. Michael bent at the waist with the hammer and tapped it just under Gavin’s kneecap. His lower leg jerked forward, as it should. Michael breathed with relief, and did the procedure a couple more times to ensure it wasn’t a fluke. When that proved to be working, Michael tapped the other knee, which responded the same way. He moved to record the results, drumming the counter a couple times before he walked back to Gavin. “Keep still,” he reminded him.

Gavin nodded. “Yes, Michael.”

Michael frowned slightly as he bent to the floor, running the edge of the hammer under Gavin’s bare foot, letting out a pleased noise when the toes flexed appropriately.

That was another thing. Gavin tended to repeat his name. It happened the first few times with the others in the lab, but Gavin seemed to get the hang of using pronouns fast enough. Except with Michael. When asked by Michael to do something, or when Gavin asked a question, he would always end with Michael’s name, as though Michael needed the confirmation that Gavin was talking to him. It could technically be considered a bug, but it didn’t seem to interrupt any of Gavin’s other functions, so Michael left well enough alone.

Both sets of toes flexed when Gavin’s feet were stimulated, and Michael recorded it. Gavin, with a lack of leg movement, turned to drumming his fingers on the table. This ended when Michael snatched Gavin’s hand, running the nail of his thumb down the nail of Gavin’s thumb, until Michael’s nail ‘clicked’ over the edge of Gavin’s. His thumb did nothing, as it should, and Michael repeated the nail runs over each finger on Gavin’s right and left hands. A response from the fingers indicated over sensitivity, which was equally as problematic as no response where there should be some.

In this way, Michael tested Gavin’s reflexes and proved they each functioned as they should. Gavin moved whatever body part Michael didn’t have his hands or a tool on. A normal person might register the medical like environment and prevent so much idle action, but Gavin had no concept of social etiquette beyond what his programming told him. Much like misinterpreting Griffon’s name when they were introduced, he would need to experience situations for himself and have his mistakes corrected to fully understand how he should behave.

“All right. You’re all good.” Michael grabbed the paper he’d scribbled on and double checked the operations of the nearest computer before he started tapping away at the keyboard. His eyes, trained from years in college studying his field, scanned the information quickly and efficiently, typing at, when Michael last checked, about seventy words per minute. Not that he would have sought that information out on his own; he took a typing class because his adviser recommended it the senior year of his bachelor’s degree, for the sake of an easy credit that would help Michael in the long run. It did, and the information collected in the past twenty minutes were input easily to the machine. Michael clicked the save button a couple times and removed the first of two flash drives from the computer’s hub.

“Now.” Michael huffed and set the flash drive in his pocket. “We need to test surface stimuli, but that’s simpler.” He grabbed a tiny flashlight from the counter. “Keep your eyes open.”

“Sure thing, Michael.”

That was it.

Michael stopped in his walk back to the table, leveling Gavin with a glare. “Why do you do that?”

“What, Michael?”

“That!” Michael said, tone accusing. Gavin flinched and shrunk into himself. Michael continued, “You repeat my name at the end of every sentence. You didn’t do that when you were talking to Geoff or Griffon.”

Sensing he wasn’t truly in trouble, Gavin straightened, and flashed a small smile. “I like the way your name sounds, Michael. It’s happy.”

Michael stopped cold at that, running through his mind all the things that were wrong with that sentence. Gavin shouldn’t say he liked his name, at least not yet. Gavin wasn’t programmed to have preferences, no AI was. It was possible he might say he liked something based on the context of humans expressing fondness, but Michael was barely called Michael unless someone needed his attention. Their tiny lab group had worked for so long on Gavin, they were like family at this point, dropping names because they could almost always tell who needed whom based on what they said. No way Gavin could have an observational opinion on what he should think of Michael’s name.

Secondly, happy? His name was happy?

Michael chose to correct the concept he could address, tucking away the preference information for later. It was possible it was only a fluke or that some of the programming came out weird. “A name can’t be happy,” Michael said, getting in Gavin’s space and bringing the flashlight up to Gavin’s head level. “Names don’t have states of being, stupid. At the best, it could _sound_ happy, and even that’s a stretch. Now, keep your eye open.”

Gavin lost his typical smile at the correction. “I think it’s happy,” he said, but listened and kept his eyes wide. Michael grunted, ignoring that in favor of shining the light in Gavin’s right eye. “Follow the light,” he said, waving it back and forth. Gavin obeyed, pupil flicking back and forth, but the childish pout on his face remained.

“Michael?”

Speaking of his name being called. Michael turned to the papers to note Gavin’s positive eye responses, answering, “In the engineering room!”

Ryan poked his head in, grinning when he saw Gavin. “Hello, there.”

Gavin lost the pout and smiled back. “Hi,” he chirped, swinging his legs again. From tantrum to pleased humming in point five seconds. Michael rolled his eyes. No doubt about it, Gavin was a robot. He clicked his pen closed and face Ryan, one hand on the counter to support his weight. “What’s up, boss?”

“How are the tests?” Ryan looked Gavin up and down, more relaxed than the day before when Gavin wore nothing except his own skin. Shorts and a polo looked good on him, tailored to fit his frame, though the shirt seemed on the small side. Griffon insisted the look suited him, and as always, she was right. “Going well?” Ryan said, when Michael hesitated.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Pretty well. He’s responding the way he should.”

“Excellent.” Ryan glanced over the notes. “There’s one thing we should talk about, though.”

“Oh?” Michael leaned fully on the counter with his hips, arms crossed over his chest. Gavin, with no one to tell him what to do, hopped down from the table and stood next to the two men, gaze once again fixated on Michael, who bristled, but didn’t look away from Ryan.

Ryan smiled at Gavin, and turned to Michael. “Gavin can’t stay at the lab. Ray gave me a call after Gus talked to him. They think being away from human interaction too long will mess with the processing system of the AI.”

Michael shrugged. “And?”

“And,” Ryan said, patiently, “I wanted to ask if you thought it best for me to take him in, or you.”

Michael paused, caught off guard, and flicked his gaze between Ryan and Gavin. “I’m not really the most qualified,” he said, fingers digging in his arms.

Ryan shook his head before Michael finished his sentence, opinion formed before he’d even asked Michael. “Sure you are. Listen, Geoff and Griffon have Millie to take care of. Gus has a wife and dogs. Ray lives in a tiny ass apartment. And I’ve got a new baby. Your place is big enough for two, and Gavin wouldn’t cost anything to keep. It’s not like he eats.”

Pushing off the counter to stand straight, Michel snorted. “I think my landlord would have a thing or two to say.”

“He knows what your job is, doesn’t he? It’s not like this hasn’t been in the news.”

True enough. The news of Austin having it’s very own humanoid robot started when the project began, and had stirred again recently when word got out that Gavin was nearing completion, though no one knew his name yet. In fact, the unveiling by the dean of the school was set for the end of the week, after they would be sure Gavin worked properly without too many glitches to complicate his operations. What the robot’s job would be yet, they didn’t know, but that wouldn’t matter for early media coverage.

Point being that everyone and their mother knew who the scientists were that built Gavin, Michael’s apartment acquaintances included. If he asked his landlord about keeping a robot around, the man would probably give him a slap on the back and encourage anyone with a camera to knock on Michael’s door and provide the rundown apartment complex needed advertisement.

Michael’s nostrils flared. “All right, you got me.”

Ryan beamed. “Great!” He flashed that smile on Gavin, who returned it automatically. “Gavin, you’ll be staying with Michael for a while, okay?”

“Staying? Like a visit?” When Ryan nodded the affirmative, Gavin’s smile became genuine, and he reached out to put his arms around Michael’s neck. “I get to visit with Michael!”

“Augh!” Michael choked at the pressure, not any stronger than the average human, but pulling him off balance with the suddenness. “Gavin, you motherfucker, let go!”

The robot obeyed, yanking his hands back, though still grinning like an idiot. “Okay, Michael.”

Michael rubbed the back of his neck, glaring at Gavin, but the robot kept smiling, and even bounced on his feet to disperse extra energy he shouldn’t even have. Michael sighed. They’d done their job, all right. Gavin was the weirdest, most awkward, eager to please robot Michael ever knew, despite the fact he’d never met another robot in person.

And, if he were honest, the thought of keeping such a magnificent machine in his house sent a pleasant buzz through Michael’s body. He got to keep a robot in his house. He got to keep a fucking _robot_ in his _house._

Michael’s life kicked ass.


	5. Chapter 5

Michael’s life would have kicked more ass if Gavin didn’t insist on being the most annoying little shit in the world.

After finishing the tests for the day, and confirming Gavin did indeed function the way he should, Michael said goodbye to Ryan and, cautiously, took Gavin out of the building to drive him home. Gavin’s eyes went wide, and he oohed and ahhed at everything, head whipping around as he took in the environment. “What, you don’t know what a college looks like?” Michael asked as they traipsed across the parking lot.

“I’ve got mental pictures, yeah, but I’ve never seen this in person. I live at the lab, remember?”

“It’s not that amazing.” Michael rolled his eyes as they came to his car, slipping the key in and unlocking the passenger side. Gavin hesitated before he grabbed the handle and pulled, a little too hard, swinging the car door and nearly hitting the vehicle next to them. “Watch it!” Michael yelled, glaring as Gavin got in and shut the door much gentler than he had opened it. “This is a fucking expensive piece of machine.”

“So am I,” Gavin pointed out.

“You won’t scratch that easy.” They did multiple stress tests on Gavin’s skin, making it tougher than human skin as the only exception to their attempts to make him as human as possible. Price of damage ruled over their mission to prove something, even if it meant skin a little less soft than the aesthetics team would have liked. Michael nearly slammed the key in the ignition and pulled his car out of the lot, holding back from speeding through the campus roads to get on the main streets. Gavin quieted in his seat, fiddling with his own hands.

That lasted all of a few minutes, before they got off campus, and Gavin was gawking again. He pressed his face to the window and watched the buildings and trees going by, eyes going from left to right as he followed the motion of the sights outside the car. If his skeleton weren’t made of metal, he might have deformed his own nose with how harsh he pushed it on the glass. “You have tons of time to look around,” Michael said, calmer. “You’ll be coming to the lab with me every day, and we take the same streets.”

“But look at it!” Gavin put a hand up alongside his face, as if he could touch the outside world by willing it strongly enough. “And there’s people, Michael! They all look so different!”

“News flash, that’s how people are. We made you look different, too.”

Gavin stopped in his staring to look at Michael, a curious glint in his eye. “If I went out there, would they know I’m a robot?”

“Technically you’re an android,” Michael said, remembering the speech Ryan gave on the reason all androids were robots but not all robots were androids. “But, no, I don’t think they would.”

“Can we go out there?” Gavin pressed himself back against the glass.

Michael’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Not today. Relax.”

Gavin visibly loosened, though his gaze stayed out the window. Ray programmed him to be ready for human commands, though it wasn’t a setting put in stone. Gavin could disobey if his AI determined it to be a wiser choice. Michael considered what the standards would be for that, as they came to his apartment building and pulled in. He clicked the engine off, but kept the doors locked, looking at Gavin and snapping his fingers until he realized Michael was talking to him and turned.

“We’re gonna tell my landlord about you, and you have to behave, got it? None of this weird shit with being all babbly and excited.”

Gavin pouted, not unlike he did when Michael corrected him about using his name. “I’m not doing anything wrong, am I?”

“That’s for me to decide,” Michael said, as he unlocked the car doors and stepped out. “Basically I want you quiet.”

Gavin grumbled, but didn’t protest, and Michael led them into the building to his landlord’s office, a small room on the bottom floor where the man spent the hours counting bills and organizing papers between cups of coffee and cigarettes. Michael knocked a couple times and waited.

The door opened, and an older man, with far too much hair draping down his back to stop at his waist, poked his head out. “Michael? What’s up?”

“I have a question for you.” Michael cleared his throat, and gestured to Gavin, standing beside him. “You know about my work, right? My team is done with our project. Meet Gavin. I was, uh, hoping he could stay with me.”

Said AI stood tall and proud, though he kept his mouth shut like Michael asked, and Michael breathed a silent sigh of relief. His landlord looked Gavin over a couple times, licking his lips, before bursting into a grin. “Well!” He opened the door wider and walked straight up to Gavin, putting a hand on each of Gavin’s arms to paw at him. “Huh, almost feels real.” The man’s hands moved to Gavin’s side and lifted his arms, rubbing up at down. “Solid, good. I like it.”

Michael flushed harder than he should at the sight of his landlord groping Gavin, shoving between them and putting Gavin’s arms back down. “All right, that’s enough, he’s delicate equipment. Can I keep him here or not?”

The landlord snorted, biting down hard on his top lip for lack of a cigarette to chew. “Yeah, sure. Might get this old place some attention.”

“Great.” Michael grabbed Gavin’s hand and spun them around, up the stairs, to get to his apartment as quickly as possible. Gavin glanced back over his shoulder at the landlord, who waved once, and retreated back into his office. Michael tightened his grip at the sight and yanked the key from his pocket. It stuck in the lock, his rage spiking as he jiggled it to get the damn thing open, shoving the door and barely holding it for Gavin before he let go and rushed to drop his coat and grab a beer from the fridge. Fucking landlord, touching what wasn’t his, putting his hands all over Michael’s equipment.

He stopped in the midst of getting a drink at the sound of a squawk, and turned to see Gavin holding the door with one hand, rubbing his nose with the other. “Did you seriously smack yourself on the door?”

“You swung it back at me!” Gavin protested as he shut it quietly, hand lingering on his nose. The pain receptors worked, at least. Michael and Ryan tested them before activating Gavin, with plans to test them again tomorrow. After the dean set the public reveal for the end of that very week, despite Griffon and Gus’ complaints, Ryan and Michael had to scramble for a schedule to ensure Gavin’s body functioned and collect the data in a neat pamphlet for the reporters covering them. Michael couldn’t even do his work in the rest of the school, stuck at the lab with his team every day until the announcement.

“Maybe I should ask Geoff if he can’t move it,” Michael muttered to himself, returning to the task of fetching beer.

“Move what?”

“The date for showing you off.” Michael hooked the bottle opener on his key ring under the top of his drink, careful of the fizz, and took a long swallow. “It’s set for this Friday, but if you’re stupid enough to let a door hit you, it might be good to shift it. We were kinda pressed for time, anyway.”

Gavin’s eyes darted around the apartment as Michael spoke, listening and observing at the same time. “Am I that big a deal?” he asked, though his voice was distracted, taking in anything and everything.

Michael didn’t bother to answer him. He pulled out his phone and tapped Geoff’s speed dial, bringing it up fast to his ear and watching Gavin fiddle around the living room while the dial rang. “Hey, Geoff. Yeah. Listen, can you talk to Jack? Gavin’s smacked himself in the fucking face on my front door, I think some of the observational systems could use work. Yeah. Well, no, I don’t. I know.” A long pause, which Gavin used to say, “You slammed the sodding thing at me!” Michael rolled his eyes and kept ignoring him, turning to face the fridge. “Okay,” he said, when Geoff finished. “Thanks. Yeah. He can fucking deal with it, it’s our project. Right. Bye.” Michael hung up and brought his drink with him around the partition keeping the kitchen and living room separate, to the sight of Gavin fiddling with his DVR and Xbox.

“What was that about?”

“Geoff’s gonna ask Jack to move the date,” Michael shrugged. “The dean wants to show you off ASAP, but if Jack can get the article moved, he’ll have no choice but to wait. Can’t believe I didn’t think of asking him before.” Michael flopped on the couch as he spoke and lifted the drink back to his lips. “There’s about a million more things Ryan wants to do before anybody outside the lab sees you.”

“Hm.” Gavin picked up one of the game cases lying on the carpet, opening it. He ducked his nose in to sniff the plastic, blinking at it a moment. “Huh.”

Michael couldn’t help the light laugh that escaped. “Dude, do you even know what that is?”

“A video game,” Gavin said simply.

“Do you _know_ about video games?”

“I know of them.” Gavin chucked the case he had and grabbed another one, flipping this one to read the back. “I don’t have any data on the specifics of games or consoles, only that people use them for entertainment. You have a lot, Michael.”

Still with the fucking name drop every other sentence. Michael said, “Ray’s a lazy asshole if he didn’t give you any info on his favorite pastime. Video games are the shit.”

Gavin’s head whipped up, eyes lit like the Fourth of July. “Can I play some?”

There shouldn’t be any harm in that, if Gavin could catch on. “Fine,” Michael conceded, and got up. He flicked the console on and slipped in the nearest game, nabbing a controller off the floor. “But watch me first,” Michael said, taking back his seat on the couch, “and if you think you can figure it out, I’ll start a game for you.”

Gavin obeyed, moving to sit next to Michael after setting the second controller on the coffee table to pick up when he felt ready. Michael watched him carefully from his peripheral, skipping through menus until he got to the main menu of the game and could gleefully begin venting the stress and fatigue of the day through guns and knives. As he played, his body slid, until his back rested in the corner of the couch back and cushions, ass at the edge and legs splayed, one under the table and the other resting lazily on the floor. Gavin, seeing this, attempted to mimic the pose, slipping his own body down. It failed quite spectacularly when he couldn’t keep himself on the couch and landed ass first on the carpet, squealing loud and catching Michael’s attention.

“Jesus.” Michael was caught between laughing himself silly and wondering in aggravation how the hell their motor systems got so fucked up. “Screw testing your nerve endings, tomorrow we’re plugging you in and checking out how the hell you even manage to walk upright.”

Gavin had sat himself back straight, sullen and pouting with his arms crossed like a five year old. “Nothing’s wrong with me,” he said, “I just lost m’ balance.”

“Right, whatever.” Michael resumed his kill streak, thinking of the monotony that came with building a giant machine, and slashing the concept each time he slashed an NPC. Though building Gavin and being assured at every turn that little to nothing was wrong with his AI or the automaton that moved at its command, it didn’t stop the job from sliding into boredom the way every job did, and it felt good to drink a beer and lose himself in a virtual world. If being an engineer weren’t so goddamn complicated, Michael might spend less time at home playing games, and do something more productive, like . . . well, he didn’t really have any other hobbies, because he spent all his time playing games. Usually ones that involved killing.

When he stopped to swig beer again, Gavin asked, “Why do you drink?”

“Huh?” Michael swirled said beverage, glancing at the amount left before fixing Gavin with a perplexed look. “Did Ray fucking leave out beer, too?”

“No, I know what it is.” Gavin made to nab for it, though Michael pulled back to keep it out of reach. Skin tight seals on Gavin’s body aside, beer plus robot would surely equal problems. Gavin pouted and ignored the refusal. “I thought drinking was a thing you did with friends.”

Michael glanced at his beer and set it down. “Sometimes. It’s good to take the edge off, too.”

Gavin hummed again, leaning into the couch.

If he had to teach Gavin about every little piece of human interaction Ray left out, Michael might have to shut him down just to get some peace. No wonder Ryan had him take Gavin; if they left him at the lab until the public announcement, he’d be questioning the reporters and the panelists and about every human being who would listen to him. Basic education did nothing for knowing how the world worked. “How are you following?” Michael asked, uncomfortable in the silence settling between them. Gavin watched the screen religiously, eyes tracking every movement Michael made with the flicks of his fingers on the controller.

“Mm? Oh, I’m following.” Gavin turned to him, smiling yet again. Light switch emotions, Michael thought. “Can I try now? I want to know why humans like video games so much.”

Curiosity was programmed in the android, and settled Michael better than Gavin’s previous mention of personal preferences. Michael exited the game and searched for the Xbox Live menu. “Yeah, sure. We’ll start with some easy puzzle games.”

Gavin beamed as he grabbed the second controller, waiting until Michael had the system configured and selected an easy platformer. At the sight of him holding the controller, Michael sighed, and put his hand around Gavin’s to correct him. “No, like _this_.” His fingers curled to push Gavin’s in place, lifting his pointer fingers to rest at the bumpers on top. When Gavin had it, Michael stood.“Get from one end of the level to the other, watch the instructions. I need food.” He left Gavin to the game, going to the kitchen to rummage.

A few minutes later, Michael had a pot of water boiling and dumped ravioli in it. He didn’t have the energy to properly cook, and it wasn’t like Gavin would judge him for his skills. The machine wasn’t designed to cook; too many dangers, even for robots better than Gavin that could withstand heat and liquids. Cooking was one of those human things that seemed better left to professionals and done without shortcuts, no matter how simplified it got with store bought, powdered ingredients. Michael didn’t trust an instant meal to save his life, and wouldn’t dare put the task of a homemade meal in the hands of someone like Gavin. So he stirred the ravioli himself, assured the worst Gavin could do with an Xbox was break the controller. Or maybe his coffee table.

Speaking of. Michael leaned around the kitchen wall to peek in the living room. “What the—” He stomped out, forgetting his food, and stared at the screen that clearly read ‘Level 37’ in bold lettering on the top right corner. “How the fuck did you do that?”

Gavin didn’t look up when Michael spoke. “It’s easy, innit? The game gives you everything you need.” His character jumped and flipped against the walls, reaching the end of the current level and, after Gavin spent a minute looking at his challenge, doing the same to the next.

“Fucking hell,” Michael hissed, sitting on the arm of the couch to watch. “No way you’re this good already.”

“They’re just puzzles, Michael.”

Just puzzles. Equations to be figured out, made slightly harder with the action moves of a platform character, but puzzles all the same. And Gavin had the mind of a machine, calculating a problem given to him in nanoseconds. Michael clicked his tongue. “All right, gimme that.”

Gavin yelped when Michael took the controller and ended the game, flicking back to the FPS he’d been playing before. He started a new save file and skipped the first cut scene, the fire of challenge lit within him. “Try this one.” Michael shoved the controller back in Gavin’s hands, scurrying away to serve his dinner and berate himself for giving a puzzle game to a fucking computer.

Almost immediately the screams started, followed by a cry of, “Michael, they’re attacking me! What do I do?” Michael smirked as he dumped his food in a bowl. With a pinch of dill weed and salt on the ravioli, Michael came back to the sight of Gavin hunched at the edge of the cushions, thumbs frantically scrambling to figure out which buttons to press, swearing or yelling every time he got killed and had to start over. Michael sat beside him, relaxed, and took his beer from the table. After a few minutes of watching the struggle, he said, “I would think an AI could predict other AI, especially the ones in a stupid game.”

“Well _you_ can’t predict other humans, _can you_?” Gavin snapped, past the point of caring if he were polite, lips pulled up to snarl at the image of ‘You Are Dead’ scrawled in bloody lettering.

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Whoa, calm down.”

“You calm down,” Gavin muttered, wrapped up in the game. Michael shrugged and ate, letting out a pleased hum at the feeling of warm pasta sliding down his throat. As the game went on, and Gavin got the hang of using his weapons, the screams died down and his body visibly relaxed, shoulders slumping and feet not quite so ready for him to leap up and strangle the console. Michael made quiet observations as he ate, looking Gavin’s body up and down to watch for anything dangerous such as limbs seizing or sparks flying beneath his skin. But no, the video game did nothing more than get simulated aggravation from the AI when Gavin couldn’t go to the end of the level and instead had to waste bullets while hiding behind an overturned truck.

Watching video games could be entertaining. Hell, the people on YouTube making a living off it were a testament to that. Michael could only stand so much of it, though, after finishing his dinner and having nothing but the rest of his beer to distract him from Gavin’s amateur gameplay. The stress he carried on his shoulders was still there, and Michael knew of one way to get rid of it. “Are you done?” he asked, drinking the last of the bottle and setting it back on the table to be disposed of later.

Gavin hit the pause button, a function he’d been using anytime an NPC caught him off guard and he wanted to collect himself, and looked at Michael. “I haven’t finished the level, no.”

“No,” Michael said, sitting up straighter, “I meant are you done, as in do you want to keep playing or can I play for a while?”

“Oh, sure.” Gavin handed his controller over readily, only for Michael to wave it off because he had his own sitting right there where he left it on the couch, using it to save in case Gavin asked about another round, and entered his own save, much further along and with more powerful weapons. Gavin put the second controller on the couch cushion and brought his feet up, curling in on himself with his chin on his knees. The silence between them didn’t last long, and Gavin, apparently hell bent on talking when he didn’t have anything better to focus on, said, “I like video games.”

Michael’s eyes flickered to him briefly. “You’re already setting a preference?”

“It was fun.” Gavin wrapped his arms around his legs, fixed on Michael’s character. “Load of spaff that it doesn’t tell you how to _do_ anything, but I liked it.”

Michael made a note to talk to Ray about the personality files. It made more sense for Gavin to like video games if he had data based on it being an entertainment system, but something skittered under his skin at the sound of it that made Michael tense. He knew too little about the AI to be keeping it under his roof, to be responsible for Gavin. “Fucking shit,” he said, dodging the NPC attacking him. “This fucking bastard thinks he’s gonna get me.”

“How do you know?” Gavin peered at him.

Michael breathed hard through his nose. “I don’t, Gavin, I’m just talking to myself.”

“Why?”

“Gavin,” Michael hissed, never looking away from the game. “I’m trying to chill out, I like talking out loud, shut the fuck up and let me play.”

Gavin started at the volume, but nodded, tucking his mouth against his knees, lips pressed on his own skin. Michael immediately felt a pull of guilt and said, “Sorry,” on instinct. He might have rolled his eyes at himself for apologizing to an AI, but the tiny smile Gavin gave him before he returned his attention to the game made Michael smile in return.

Losing himself in the game helped ease his mind. Gavin spoke little in light of Michael’s snap at him, watching the television with the occasional quiet quip about the speed of Michael’s fingers or how in the world it could be relaxing when Michael’s voice rose with the amount of his swears. An hour passed like that, Michael finishing that level and then another before he tossed the controller and picked up his dishes. Gavin unfurled to look at him, standing and following when Michael vanished around the corner.

“Don’t come in here,” Michael warned, “it’s dangerous as shit.”

“The kitchen?” Gavin asked, snorting. “Why?”

“About a thousand different sharp, hot, or freezing objects that could bust your skin and short circuit the wiring,” Michael said as he dumped his dishes in the sink and put the beer bottle in the recycling bucket under the sink after washing it out. “Kitchen equals danger for robots.”

“Mm.” Gavin hovered at the edge of the carpet anyway, toeing on the linoleum a couple times, flinching back when Michael turned. Michael pretended not to notice as he rinsed his bowl and left it to dry, plucking a pretzel from an open bag on the counter despite having just eaten. “I’m beat,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “You can power down on the couch, right?” Not that Michael wouldn’t prefer to have Gavin as close as possible, but a fully conscious, humanoid robot on sleep mode next to his bed settled poorly in his stomach. “It’s soft, it’ll catch you if something tips you over.”

Gavin’s head turned briefly toward the living room and settled back on Michael. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

But he didn’t move when Michael walked past him to get to his bedroom, and he paused to look at the AI. Gavin glanced between Michael and the living room. “Um. Blankets?”

“You have an internal heating system,” Michael said, cricking his neck. He could practically hear his bed calling to him, the length of the day settling heavy in his muscles. “And we live in Texas. The only time the weather bothers to get cold is when it’s snowing or raining.”

“Oh.” Gavin still didn’t move, fingers playing with the hem of his t shirt. “It’s just, humans have blankets on their beds, don’t they?”

“For warmth, yeah.”

If Michael had trouble believing an AI could be sheepish, he didn’t now. Gavin ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “I kinda pictured myself using blankets when I finally got to use sleep mode in an actual bed.” He hesitated. “Or a couch.”

“But you slept in the lab.” Michael tensed the longer the conversation went on. He wanted bed, and he wanted it now.

Gavin’s voice got low under the harshness of Michael’s tone. “Griffon gave me a blanket.”

The look Gavin gave him, cautious and hopeful under his ridiculously long lashes that Griffon insisted on because they gave him a sort of beauty that wouldn’t be criticized by the masses as being too feminine, tapped softly at Michael’s heart. It was the look his nephew gave him during the holidays, when he wanted to play and Michael’s brother was just too tired, and no one else would bother.

His tone softened as he said, “All right, let me check the hall closet.”

Gavin brightened, and watched, still at the kitchen entrance, as Michael went down the hall and rummaged in the closet until he found a blanket folded up on a high shelf, tugging it until he could yank it from beneath the boxes of old junk he would never use again, the cloth falling in his arms in a tangled mess of cotton and yarn. Michael gathered it as best he could without actually folding it, as well as an ugly throw pillow some relative gave him that he didn’t want to look at and so shoved away until now, bringing the impromptu supplies to the living room.

With the blanket on one end of the couch, Michael arranged the extra throw with the other pillows he already had on the couch to form a comfortable nest for Gavin’s head. “There,” he said, gesturing to his masterpiece. Gavin had finally come out of the kitchen and now beamed at his make shift bed. “Happy?”

“Thank you, Michael!”

Gavin launched himself in the manner Michael was sure he would soon become accustomed to, wrapping his arms around Michael’s neck and burying his face in his shoulder. He smelled of plastic and the fabric softener Geoff used in his laundry, no trace of the innate scent humans have on his artificial body. Michael stood shock still and, when Gavin refused to move, tentatively placed his hands on Gavin’s waist in return. “You’re welcome, Gav.”

The confirmation pleased him, and Gavin let go to tug his socks off and snuggle under the blanket, pulling it around his neck with his head pushed in the pillows. “Goodnight, Michael.”

“Night.” Michael started to walk out, and stopped himself, looking at Gavin. He was already asleep, eyes closed, breathing system, entirely unnecessary but yet another challenge Ryan designed for the sake of aesthetics and making Gavin look human, puffing his chest in and out in tiny breaths. A shiver ran up Michael’s spine, that Gavin could be awake and flitting around like a bird one second, and unconscious the next. He hurried out, shaking off the chills and readying himself for his own, natural, human sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is depiction of robotic injuries. No humans are harmed, but there is simulation of pain. Please be careful.

The same sight greeted Michael the next morning. Gavin was curled up in his blanket on the couch, perfectly frozen save for his engineered breathing. Michael stared for a moment, a shiver running up his spine at how close to human he looked, but let him be as he made his coffee and eggs. Unlike most times when Michael shared his apartment with someone, like when Ray set fire to his kitchen and had to stay for a few days, it wouldn't be a scramble of who got to shower and brush their teeth first. He supposed Gavin could change clothes if he wanted, but then, Geoff and Griffon still had everything they bought for Gavin tucked away in the lab somewhere. Michael never thought to bring it with him, and of course Gavin didn't think of it because no one told him to.

After a nice shower, when Michael felt awake and ready to handle the android, the warmth of his coffee lingering as he drank it, Michael said, “Wake up, Gavin,” a little louder than he knew he needed to. He watched curiously as Gavin's eyelids snapped open. The robot sat up automatically. “What time is it?” spilled from his mouth as he tossed the blanket and stood, stiff and ready for command. It was the most like a robot Michael had seen him since the AI first initiated.

“Eight twenty,” Michael said, sipping noisily at his coffee. “Sort yourself out and be ready to go in ten, all right?”

“Okay.” Gavin relaxed, back to the rambunctious young man programmed as his personality, and trailed after Michael to the kitchen, where Michael refilled his drink. “How long have you been up?”

As Michael thought back to exactly how long it took him to stop hitting the snooze button and actually get up, he said, “I dunno.” He shrugged and drank again, humming happily at the taste of coffee doused in milk and sugar. “Like, an hour, I guess.”

“Do you not set an alarm?” Gavin hoisted himself on the counter and swung his bare feet. “Humans don't have automatic power on functions, right?”

“Of course I set an alarm, but I don't get up right away.” Michael stared at Gavin, and at the spot where his weight centered on the counter, wondering how much it could take before it broke under the strain. Gavin weighed a fair amount more than the average person, what with all that metal. Not enough that Michael couldn't still lift him, thanks to the thin frame and light material, but heavy all the same. “Why do you care?”

Gavin shrugged. “Curious. Human habits are all different from person to person.”

Michael's eyes broke from their trance on the counter to narrow at Gavin. “Well, don't bug me every minute about this shit. Just because you're living here right now doesn't mean you can't learn from everyone else.”

Rather than reply, Gavin only nodded and flashed Michael a smile that dove straight to his stomach and fluttered for a second before settling. Michael gulped, hurriedly finished his second cup, and moved past the living room to the door to grab his coat. He cursed Geoff and Griffon for wanting to make a young man, but Griffon especially for the accent she absolutely insisted on. It made everything Gavin said sound like he was flirting. “Come on, we're gonna be late.”

“Right, sorry!” Gavin jumped down and nabbed his shoes, slipping them on. “Do I need a coat, too?”

“No.” Michael waited for Gavin to leave before locking the door behind them and leading them down the stairs. Gavin took his time glancing down the halls, at the doors where other humans lived, having not had the chance when Michael rushed him up last night. “I barely need one, but the lab has a policy on short sleeves. With that much equipment, it's best to leave as little skin showing as possible.”

“Why do you call it a lab?” Gavin kept looking around them when they got to Michael's car, hesitating to take in a wide sweep of the apartment building and the parking lot before he got in. “It's more like an office.”

Michael started the engine, not speaking for a moment, concentrating on getting out and into morning traffic. “Because it's a lab?” he said, eyes on the road. “Whatever imagery you have installed, it's not all cut and dry. Some labs have tons of beakers and computers and fancy machines. We have maybe five computers, a couch, and all our cheap ass tools are kept in the back for Ryan and me.”

“Oh.” Gavin stared out the window again, blinking automatically every few seconds, head resting on the seat and hands fiddling with his shorts. “What are we doing today, then?”

Michael thumped his hand on the wheel when they slowed to a stop, glad Gavin hadn't disrupted his usual routine of leaving ten minutes earlier than he needed to to make up for the awful, crowded streets. “Our plan was to test your nerves, reactions to pain and pleasure and all that shit. But your fiasco with the fucking door and the couch make me think we should look at your motors, too.”

“That was your fault!” Gavin said, huffing.

“For the door, _maybe._ But landing on your ass on my carpet was all you. It needs checking anyway, don't be a baby about it.”

“I'm not a baby, my body is a human adult,” Gavin said. Michael merely shrugged. Gavin kept watching Michael despite his lack of an answer, perhaps trying for a reaction or simply to figure out something his AI wanted to know. Michael couldn't be sure, and he kept his eyes on the unmoving road until Gavin went back to gazing out the window. Waiting until he was sure Gavin wouldn't be looking, Michael stole a glance at him. Nothing about the robot read as upset or mad, and Michael looked out the front window again, cars finally moving, as slow as they were.

For the remainder of the ride, Gavin only talked about the scenery, excitement wiring back up with each new sight. He'd never seen a child before and almost went fucking ballistic on their way onto the University of Texas campus, pointing at an older woman, likely a professor, walking hand in hand with a girl of four or five. “Michael, it's a tiny person!”

“She's a kid, Gavin.” Didn't they just have the baby conversation?

“I know! She's so little!” He smiled and pressed his face against the window as he had the day before, until they drove too far to see the mother and child anymore. “Are there any robot children?”

“No,” Michael said, predicting the question. “Robots are designed to help humans. Any android is built as an adult to help with work practices. A child sized one wouldn't be practical.”

Gavin paused, waiting until they were parked and out of the car before speaking again. “Am I gonna have a job, too?”

“Yep.” Michael shoved his hands in his pockets and started the short walk to the communal sciences building, Gavin walking next to and slightly behind him. He tensed, waiting for Gavin to ask what kind of job he'd be doing, but the question never came. Gavin continued to look around him and take in the school, storing each tidbit away for later.

It was just as well Gavin didn't ask what they intended to do with him after they showed him off to Austin and the rest of the world. The thought had pandered at the back of Michael's head for some time, but neither Ryan nor Gus had an answer for him when he asked. The dean wouldn't give up squat about what he wanted to do with their android. Not that it truly mattered-- Gavin would stay at UT no matter what, he was the property of the school-- but the curiosity itched at him, like something crawling up his spine. Michael shook it away and glanced back at Gavin. “Ready for another big day of sitting around while we tell you to do stuff?”

Gavin stopped in his gawking at the professors, scientists, and students that walked around them, a few of whom stared back, and were no doubt wondering whether Gavin was who they thought he might be, after rumors of his finished creation and appearance floated up and down the halls. He smiled at Michael. “Indeed I am, my little Michael.”

Michael frowned at the nickname as they entered the lab. He pulled on his coat to cover his arms and smiled at Ryan, who was looking over some papers. Ryan set them down to walk up and give Gavin a once over, hands on his hips as he moved around him. Gavin tried to turn and meet Ryan's gaze as he walked, but the taller man shoved Gavin back in place by the shoulder. “Morning, Michael, Gavin. Hold still, Gavin, I want to make sure Michael didn't break anything.”

“Why wouldn't I be careful with my own fucking machine?” Michael picked up the papers Ryan put down and missed the look he knew Ryan would be giving him. The sheets had notes on the sensory data they collected before waking Gavin up, the testing of which they would repeat today. Michael ran a hand through his hair, nostrils flaring. Gavin hadn't been conscious to give them a reaction last time, but now he could let out every cry of pain and moan of pleasure as they hit different nerves with simulated sensation.

Yeah, not gonna be fun.

When he did finally look up, Ryan had stopped circling and was either still giving him a look or merely resumed the previous attempt after Michael snapped out of his thoughts. “Geoff told me about the nose thing.”

“His fault,” Michael said automatically.

“Was not!” Gavin instinctively touched his nose, as if the pain were still present.

“Whatever. Did Geoff say anything about moving the reveal date?”

“Did I do what now?”

All three turned to see Geoff coming out of the bathroom in the corner, uncaring as he zipped his pants in front of them and strolled across the room. Michael repeated his question, not even finished before Geoff smiled and nodded reassuringly. “Don't worry, I asked him before you even called me. To have Gavin tested and ready in a week is ridiculous. It's gonna be next Friday instead. Still kinda fast, but Jack said his boss wants the article out before the buzz in town dies too much.”

“All right.” Michael nodded, happier than he had been about the arrangement. “I can work with that. Ryan?”

Ryan pushed his glasses up, closer to his eyes. “Sure thing. Let's start by figuring out whether the rest of Gavin gets hurt as bad as his nose does.”

Geoff barked a laugh, the giggles skittering through the air while Michael led Gavin to the back room of the lab. He muttered to himself about how of course Gavin's fucking nose was the first thing to get hurt.

“Don't you have a wife to help out with whatever the fuck she's doing?” Michael asked, grabbing Gavin's wrist when he wouldn't follow fast enough. Their robot was too absorbed in watching Geoff's face contort in laughter to focus on walking.

“Nah, she's at the art department today, setting up an exhibit.”

Michael cursed Griffon's BFA, taking her away from using her obnoxious husband so Ryan and Michael could work in peace. He pulled Gavin to the engineers room and stood him next to where Michael and Ryan kept their work computers. A TENS machine, borrowed from the health department, sat on the counter, bigger and heavier than the portable versions some people used for pain treatment. Michael had no idea how it could help pain if it sent electricity straight into you, but therapy in general was never his forte. Michael went into robotics rather than medicine for more than a few reasons, not in the least because dealing with people he liked took enough energy, let alone strangers.

He hesitated in picking up the set of wires that were rolled together, untangling them carefully. “Take off your shirt, Gavin,” he said. “We're gonna make sure your body has the right simulated responses, all right? It's just a physical test for the AI and how it controls your body.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Gavin said as he shucked his shirt and stood still for Michael, who felt sorry for Gavin in that moment. The poor kid wouldn't see it coming.

“This isn't gonna feel good,” he warned, pressing the adhesive pads to Gavin, one on the left and right of his chest and lower back, four in total. “Ryan?”

“Yep.” Ryan had his hands at the machine, ready to press the buttons of the digital dial on Michael's command. Geoff, with nothing better to do at the moment, situated himself against a wall and cocked his head, curious.

“Set it to low and work up,” Michael told him, his hands settling on Gavin's shoulders, both to hold him down and to observe through touch his reactions, thankful the insulated skin wouldn't send shocks to him as well.

Ryan clicked the TENS machine on and set the dial to a low setting, 20hz, before sending a couple pulses out.

The best thing about using a silicone compound for Gavin's skin was that they could make it to fit their needs, including whether the material they used worked as a conductor or an insulator. For Gavin, Griffon made it an insulator, to keep any interior electrical malfunctions to a minimum, as well as prevent outside damage. The pulses from the TENS machine would stimulate the nerves just under the surface without penetrating far enough to short circuit anything.

“What the hell?” Gavin jumped at the feeling, ducking his head to stare at himself, then the machine. “Was that electricity?”

Michael kept a firm hold on him. “Yeah, we're testing the nerves. Pain reactions first. Calm down, it'll take longer if you mess around.”

Lacking actual pain, Gavin settled, though he eyed the machine warily as Ryan recorded the results on a free sheet of paper before resetting the dial to 50hz. Another couple pulses shot through the wires to Gavin's synthetic skin, lighting up his implanted nerve endings to garner the appropriate reaction from his brain.

Gavin jumped more, almost knocking Michael's hands off with the twitch and subsequent tingles that ran through him. “Ow,” he muttered. “That hurt.”

“Hurt? Or _hurt_ hurt?” Michael ran his hands up and down Gavin's body, testing for any differences caused by the electricity. “Is the pain lasting?”

“No, it went away.” Gavin flexed his arms to shake off the residual feeling. “How high are we going?” His voice rose a bit despite the attempt to control it.

Ryan gave him a soft smile. “Just to 175hz. Any more than that and your skin could sustain damage. And we'll test your pleasure receptors after that. It'll be nicer, I promise.”

Gavin swallowed, and nodded, as Michael put his hands back on his shoulders, squeezing once. Michael watched Ryan set the dial to 75hz warily. 100hz would generate a decent amount of pain, and was the setting TENS machines were typically set to for therapeutic pain. 175 would probably have Gavin yelling. Michael turned to face Gavin, head lowered and unconsciously tucking near Gavin's collarbone. Gavin leaned forward in kind, breathing system blowing gently against Michael's ear.

Gavin cried quietly at the next set of shocks, stiffening. Michael kept a hold on him. From the corner, Geoff no longer looked amused at their handling of Gavin, eyes flicking between the machine and the android. Michael saw him move and shook his head slightly, discouraging. The last thing they needed was to start the tests over because Geoff's fatherly nature got the better of him. Geoff's mouth twisted in a frown, and his fingers clenched.

“Fuck, that hurt!” Gavin yanked back at the feeling of 125hz of electricity running through him, words ending in a slight whimper.

“A little bit more,” Michael assured him, tugging Gavin close again and standing as near as he could without pressing his body to Gavin or the TENS pads, the grip of his fingers light but strong.

150 and 175 elicited more cries, the last one louder than the others as Gavin tried to shrink away from the pain, eyes scrunched tight together. When Ryan had the results recorded and signaled the okay, Michael hurried to rip the pads off, still careful enough not to break them before he tossed them on the floor for Ryan to pick up. He ran his hands down Gavin's arms again. “Are you okay?”

A moment of heavy breathing, and Gavin said, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Hey, it won't do permanent damage.” Michael tried to smile, heart twisting in what he was sure was concern for his beloved project. “Your skin isn't like human skin, there's no healing process to worry about.”

“Yeah,” Gavin said again, voice growing in confidence. “Yeah, m' all right now.”

“Thank fuck,” Geoff huffed from the wall, pushing off by the hip to stand closer and hover near Gavin. “You're never doing that again.”

“Well.” Ryan rolled the wires together and bundled them with the machine, tucking it against the wall behind the counter. “Multiple tests is part of being an engineer.”

“Never. Again.” Geoff leveled him with a strong glare. Ryan held up his hands defensively, and Geoff relaxed. “So, how do we test the pleasure sensors?”

Ryan and Michael both hesitated, and looked at each other.

“Uh. You might want to leave,” Michael said. “This could get awkward.”

* * *

Pleasure wasn't quite the right word for it, but for technicality's sake, Michael and Ryan put it on the paperwork to mean the opposite of pain. It was merely a moniker for measuring both ends of the sensation spectrum, and it wouldn't be nearly as bad as watching Gavin squirm under the TENS machine.

Geoff left after Michael told him, throwing his hands up and saying, “Fine, I don't want to know,” and walking out to figure out whether there were any actual jobs to do. Geoff managed the team as a whole more often then not, assigning schedules and ending petty fights, but without Griffon around, he had little to work on. The aesthetics team did better together than apart.

The main part of the test consisted of pulling out a random set of fabrics Griffon gave them from her junk bin to test on Gavin's skin. He seemed aware and able to register sense, but different materials could have different snags if they weren't careful, and part of the tests were measuring Gavin's sensitivity and ability to articulate what he felt. This time he would have to describe as they worked.

“Soft,” he said as Michael tested a piece of velvet on his upper arm, running it down to his fingers and back up again. He'd put his shirt back on, the sleeve rolled up to give Michael better access to his upper arm and shoulder. “It's got lots of little fibers, but it's smooth, not like the carpet.”

Michael nodded, writing down the description in short hand and tossing the velvet on top of the section of carpet they'd just used. “All right, that's most of the fabric,” he said, glancing at the box. They had velvet, a piece of carpet, silk, leather, and a fuck ton of various types of cotton blend. Ryan shoved it under the table with his toe, out of sight and likely never to be used for anything other than more sensation tests.

“And now we do human touch.” Ryan put his hands on his hips, leaning over Michael's shoulder to read the paperwork. “You guys hung out at your place, did he react the way he should?”

“We didn't touch much, but yeah. I showed him how to use a game controller, he moved his fingers when I manually put them on the buttons and everything.”

“Whoa, you gamed with him?” Ryan's eyebrow shot up. “How'd that go?”

“I beat his puzzle game!” Gavin chirped, smirking.

“You're a fucking computer,” Michael spat. “You lost your ass the minute I gave you a virtual gun and there weren't any formulas to figure out.”

Ryan laughed at them, chest shaking heavily. “Oh, man. I'd heard about robots used for entertainment, but video games? That's awesome.”

“Right, well--”

“Hello?”

Michael stopped, all three men's heads turning at the sound of the deep voice. A second later, Geoff answered, “Hey, Jack!”

“Oh, great.” Michael sighed and pushed his paperwork to the side. If Jack was here, they wouldn't be getting any work done. Testing Gavin's response to human touch would have to wait until later, like everything else, because they couldn't get a moment's fucking peace in this place anymore. Michael almost wished Gavin were still inactive so no one would poke their noses in the lab and he could go home without worrying every other minute if his android would collapse and maim himself by mistake.

Geoff poked in the back room, grinning with joy that he didn't have to be bored with his wifelessness for the time being. “Jack's here!”

Said man sauntered in behind him, large frame barely squeezing past Geoff to make his way in the room. Michael narrowed his eyes at the notepad and pencil in the reporter's hand, poised for catching any information he found. “He wants an early interview, something to tease people with before we show Gavin off.”

“Hi!” Gavin piped up at the new face, beaming. Jack smiled, eyes twinkling with promise. He had yet to see Gavin as a complete project, hearing pieces of news through the grapevine that was Geoff's giant mouth. Thankfully, he kept it from the news if Geoff urged him to stay quiet, but the majority of gossip about Gavin came from Jack's articles.

“Hi there,” Jack said. “I'm Jack. Who are you?”

Jack knew very well who Gavin was, and Michael glared at him, then at his drunken partner in crime. “Geoff,” Michael said, frustration leaking through his controlled tone. “I asked you to move the date so _this wouldn't happen_. Not that I'm not glad to see you, Jack,” he said, turning his attention to their guest, “but Gavin isn't nearly ready. Don't you have more important things to do? Stories that aren't coming out next fucking week?”

Jack shrugged, his free hand scratching the back of his neck. “Burnie's really riding me about the robot thing. And articles like this take a long time. Geoff told me I could come in today and get something so Burnie will lay off for a while.”

Michael whirled, leveling Geoff with a stare. “You didn't warn us about this?”

Geoff met the challenging gaze. “I might've, but my attention was kinda caught in you torturing our robot.”

Jack immediately snatched the pencil in his dominant hand and brought the notepad back up. “Torturing?” he asked, voice laced with both concern and hope for a tasty tid bit.

“We weren't,” Ryan said, before Michael's feathers could ruffle any further. “It was a test on his reactions to stimuli, which you interrupted. I don't want to be a party pooper, but we actually have a ton of shit to do before the news conference. You're not the only one with a boss breathing down your neck.”

“Aw, please?” Jack begged. “I just need, like, two sentences and I'll be out of your hair.”

“Come on,” Geoff added helpfully, gesturing between Gavin and Ryan. “Couldn't you use a break anyway? Talk to Jack for a little bit. I'll keep an eye on Gavin.”

Ryan and Michael glanced between each other, and looked to Jack. Ryan blew out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. “A recovery time for Gavin's nerves wouldn't be a bad idea.”

Michael bristled again. “We need to get our work done, I still want to look at his motor systems--”

“It's fine,” Ryan said, putting a hand up to quiet him. “Let's talk to Jack. Gavin, can you stay with Geoff?”

The android smiled, settled down and amused with the new arrival and the commotion he'd brought. “Yes, I can,” he said obediently. His eyes lingered on Jack, though, and Geoff, as he sauntered over and hovered near Gavin, didn't fail to notice.

“You can hang out later,” he promised, putting a hand on Gavin's shoulder. “You haven't seen much of the lab yet, have you? I'll give you the grand tour.”

Gavin forgot about Jack, eyes lighting up. “Yeah?”

Geoff chuckled. “Come on, let's go.” He pushed lightly to lead Gavin out of the room, waving cheerfully at Ryan and Michael on his way out. Ryan shook his head. Michael glared at the door, which Geoff didn't even bother to close, with his fists clenched.

Jack practically bounced on his feet as Geoff and Gavin left, and turned to look at the two engineers with a grin. “So?” He held up his pencil again. “Would you guys mind?”

Michael looked to the door again, hearing the faint sounds of Geoff describing the layout of the lab and what exactly the few machines they had outside the engineering office did. Michael sighed and leaned against the wall. “Sure. Shoot.”

“Let's sit down,” Ryan offered, gesturing to the chairs stacked in the corner. With a couple tables and counters full of computers and papers, there wasn't much room for sitting. The chairs stayed out of the way until they absolutely needed them. Ryan pulled three of the plastic school chairs from the pile and arranged them in a triangle for the group to sit. Jack put one leg over the other once he was seated, crossed leg bouncing while he scribbled on his notepad. Michael sat with a harsh thump, still half listening in the direction of the doorway, though he couldn't hear Geoff and Gavin anymore.

“What do you need to know?” Ryan, ever the peace maker, was trying to get into the situation as best he could. Michael sat stiff and straight, eyes on the floor. They had work to do, damn it, they didn't need petty distractions that could easily be taken care of at the official unveiling. Jack and a million other reporters could ask whatever they wanted. If news got out that Jack got a private interview, everyone in the news business would want one, and then the lab would be flooded. Their dean might appreciate the upsurge, but it meant more work for the team to keep everything under control.

But Jack's attitude made it hard to stay mad at him, and Michael eventually lifted his eyes and looked at him. Jack smiled, happy and buzzing with ideas. “I'll keep it quick,” he promised.

And he did as promised, to Michael's relief. He asked about the length of the project, how Gavin's first few days of operation were going, and what they planned to do with him. Ryan gave most of the answers, and Michael offered what Ryan hadn't seen of Gavin living in his apartment. Both kept their answers general, leaving out specific data and bits of information that could be twisted against them if it were to become public. For that reason, they refused to touch the topic of the nerve testing. Eliciting simulated pain from a humanoid creature, inorganic as he was, would rile the locals who thought androids were too close to humans to be controlled the way they were, with regulating their jobs and uses as well as their looks and personality. The lines between AI and natural consciousness crossed too often for either Michael or Ryan to want to get into the debate before Gavin was even an official entity to the people outside the school.

“And do you have plans for what he's doing after you reveal him to the public?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

Michael shrugged. “We have a lot of function testing to do before we decide anything. It's the dean's decision, anyway. We're just the manual labor.”

“Really?” Jack scribbled frantically as Michael spoke, eyes flitting between him and the paper. “You know, I heard about this robot in France, that they use for, like, parties and stuff.”

“He's a little too expensive for that,” Ryan said, voice rising in pitch. Gus managed their finances, but Ryan had seen enough of the books to know the general area of the grant money they spent making Gavin. “He'll work somewhere in the school, I'm guessing. Fun isn't what he's built for.”

The hours Michael spent playing video games with Gavin might argue otherwise, but Michael kept his mouth shut. The reactions were simulated, and there wouldn't be much point in building a robot for fun either way. For that much money, they had to get their worth, and that didn't include dancing or gaming.

“All right,” Jack said, nodding and flipping through the pages he'd filled. “I think this is enough to get Burnie off my case. I can start a draft of the article with this. The meat of it will come from the conference, anyway. How's the set up for that going?” He looked up, expectant.

“I dunno,” Ryan said, glancing aimlessly at the door. Michael did the same, wondering if he caught something. Geoff and Gavin were still gone, probably in Geoff's office. “We aren't the ones in charge of setting it up, the PR department is.”

“Oh.” Jack closed his notepad, reporter's instinct dying down. “Well, thanks a bunch, I really--”

“Ah! Fucking hell, Geoff! Ow!”

All three jumped, Michael's chair scraping the floor with the speed he stood and rushed to the open doorway. He grabbed it with one hand as he swung his head out and looked around the main room of the lab. Gavin was nowhere to be seen, but his pained cries didn't stop. “Geoff, it hurts!”

“Gavin?” Michael ran from the room. Ryan was right behind him. Jack hesitated at the door, unsure whether it was his business. But he couldn't resist knowing what was happening, even if he never put it in the paper, and ran after the other two.

Gavin's cries led them through the main room to an office on the other side, where Griffon and Geoff worked most of the time, with the occasional interruption from Ray or Gus if the main room was too crowded. The tiny room had a desk, a computer, and a box full of materials that Griffon liked to work with as a real life test for what the computer calculations told her about her designs. Now the bin had disposed pieces of the plastic that made up Gavin's skin, as well as the remainder of the wig they dismantled for his hair.

Michael bashed into the bin in his rush to get inside. He cursed and shook his leg to disperse the pain, searching until his eyes found Gavin, curled on the chair and clutching his hand. Geoff was fretting over him, begging Gavin to give him his hand so he could look at it.

“Like hell you'll touch it! You'll make it worse!” Gavin kept his hand against himself, legs folded and ready to curl protectively over his chest. Michael shoved the materials bin aside and squeezed in the office. Ryan arrived and stayed at the door, tense and ready to jump in the fray regardless of the amount of room. Jack stood behind him, keeping a view but leaving some distance.

“What the fuck happened?” Michael wormed between Gavin's arms and grabbed the hidden hand, yanking it out while Gavin yelped and protested.

“He got a hold of one of Griffon knives when I wasn't looking,” Geoff said, concerned and royally pissed off. “Little fucker cut his finger open.”

“Jesus.” Michael forced Gavin to open his hand, quickly finding the injured index finger. The cut was deep, and in lieu of blood and muscle, Michael could see metal and a few wires. He pulled the skin back with his thumb to assess the damage.

Gavin jumped in the chair. “Michael, stop!” he yelled, trying to take his hand away. Michael didn't let him, prodding the skin and wondering in his mind how many nerves had been hit. The hands were filled with them to allow for maximum touch capabilities. No doubt they would need to cut the skin around the injury and replace the tiny nodes that relayed the electric pulses to Gavin's AI to register feeling. The delicate work would take a few hours, and Gavin would have to be in sleep mode for it.

God damn it.

“I _told_ you,” Michael said, pulling his thumb away and letting the skin fall closed, “that sharp things are fucking dangerous. There's a reason I didn't let you in my goddamn kitchen, it's full of knives!” He glared at Gavin, still holding his hand to keep the robot from taking it back.

Gavin bit his lip. “I was just curious, I didn't mean to drop the knife. Michael, the pain isn't going away!”

“Because you cut the nerves in half!” Michael clenched his teeth and let out a slow breath through his nose. “Electricity fades as the energy disperses. The pain from that won't stay if there isn't damage. But if the nerves are cut, they're programmed to send automatic signals that register pain. As long as they stay damaged, they'll keep doing it. It's how your pain receptors work, asshole.”

“Then fix it!”

“I'm gonna!” Michael spat back, patience thinning with every whine of pain Gavin gave. He turned to face Ryan. “We gotta postpone the motor test, this is gonna take a while.”

“Right.” Ryan nodded in sympathy. “At least we know the nerves work?” he said, attempting to console Michael. Michael didn't feel much better for it, looking at the cut again. The difference between this and a human injury, and the fact Gavin was whining and trying to pull away rather than screaming like a human might, shocked him somewhat. Michael had to take a second to stare, to assure himself Gavin wouldn't bleed, before he let his hand go and stood. “Come on, let's get the tools. We'll need some help from you, too, Geoff.”

“All right.” Geoff got up from kneeling beside Gavin, brushing his pants. “I swear to God, I only stopped watching him for a second to answer my phone, he dropped the knife before I could even turn around.”

“I don't want to hear it.” Michael grabbed Gavin's upper arm and pulled him up. Gavin keened, standing with his hand held near his chest. Michael stormed past Ryan to the other room, already starting a mental list of everything he and Ryan would have to do to fix Gavin's finger. Ryan walked behind him with Gavin, giving consoling platitudes to assure the android he would be all right, and it wasn't that bad of a cut. Geoff stayed near Jack, cursing at himself.

“What the hell is going on!?”

Once in the room and seated with a still complaining Gavin, Michael startled at the shrill voice. A moment later Griffon was there, shoving her way past Geoff and Jack, standing with her hands on her hips and eyes going up and down Michael and Gavin. “Why is Gavin yelling? What happened?”

“Dumbass cut his skin open with one of your toys,” Michael said, working to get Gavin's hand back. Ryan already had a box of supplies out, digging through for spare parts they could use.

Griffon narrowed her eyes at Ryan, then turned back to Michael. “I go to help set up one exhibit, and this happens?”

“It's your husband's fault.” Michael finally had a hold on Gavin's hand, shushing him when Gavin whined again. “We're fixing it,” he assured Gavin, more annoyed than comforting. Gavin quieted, but pulled a couple more times on his hand. Michael threw him a stern look, and he stopped.

Griffon whirled around to Geoff. “Excuse me?”

“He picked up a knife, I didn't do anything!” Geoff put his hands up defensively. “Jesus, I looked away for two seconds! To answer _you_ calling me!” His hands lowered, and he gave a hesitant, fearful smile. “So, you know, you could say this is your fault.”

Not in the mood for his bullshit, Griffon turned away with a quick eye roll, and bent down to kneel at Gavin's level. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

Gavin shook his head. “It hurts.”

“Want me to kiss it better?”

Michael scoffed. “He's an android, that's not gonna fucking do anything.”

Griffon ignored him, still looking at Gavin. “Well?”

Gavin pursed his lips, thinking. “That's a thing mums do, right?” He met Griffon's eyes, searching them hopefully. “Kiss their kids' wounds?”

Griffon nodded indulgently. “It'll help you feel better, I promise.”

“If it helped, I woulda done it,” Michael said without thinking, and regretting it immediately when Gavin beamed at him.

“Would you, Michael? Kiss it better?”

“Hell no!” Michael turned away, ignoring the heat climbing the back of his neck.

Griffon made a disapproving noise, and reached for Gavin's hand. Michael let her have it and stood to help Ryan, digging through the box with him to find the extra wires and tools. He watched Griffon from the corner of his eyes, as she bent over Gavin's hand with more flourish than she needed to and pressed her lips to the tip of his finger, right over the cut. Gavin shrunk at the feeling, but brightened when Griffon smiled, no longer desperate to take his hand away. “All better,” Griffon said, petting his hair and twirling the strands.

Michael swallowed and said, “Gavin, go to sleep mode.”

The robot's eyes closed. He slumped. Griffon squeaked, moving forward to catch him before he fell out of the seat. “Michael!”

“We have to fix his finger,” Michael said, drawing out the tweezers they would need to adjust the circuits beneath Gavin's skin. “I'm not having him crying through the whole thing.”

Griffon pouted and propped Gavin until his back sat straight against the chair. “You could have given me a little warning.”

“Whatever.” Michael knelt beside her and took Gavin's hand, now limp. “Come on, Ryan, let's fix this now so we don't spend forever on it.”

Ryan nodded and bent down with Michael, wires in hand. Griffon huffed and stood, moving next to Geoff and Jack. “We need to talk,” she said, channeling her new found irritation to grabbing Geoff by the collar and dragging him from the engineering office. Geoff tried to protest, voice cut off when Griffon pulled particularly hard.

Jack laughed quietly, eyes stuck on Michael and Ryan as they worked to fix Gavin before the damage proved lasting and they had to replace the nerves entirely.


	7. Chapter 7

Gavin wasn't ready for release. There would be no way.

Michael stood outside the door to the dean's office, his eyes going from the knob to the window, where he could see the receptionist typing on her computer, or answering the phone. Michael turned to the railing behind him and peered over the edge, where he could see students and staff walking up and down the stairs to get to their classes or offices. The central campus building had four floors, with a stairwell in the center, wide enough to accommodate the crowds, but thin enough that everyone bumped into each other and couldn't see from one staircase to the next in times of high traffic. Michael came early, before he had to work, and the area was empty save for the early risers who got where they needed to go before it became a problem. Michael had shoved Gavin with Geoff and Ray in the lab for the movement tests that _he_ was supposed to oversee, but gave up in lieu of going to the dean's office. The fact that they needed to do a motor test at all, to make sure Gavin's basic functions worked after all the prep they went through, was what spurred him on.

No way Gavin would be ready in time. The public reveal was next week, and there were still a million issues, tiny little glitches that were nothing on their own, but presented a bigger problem when they happened all at once. Case in point, the night before, when he and Gavin went home.

With his skin repaired and only slightly ruffled from being forced to sleep, Gavin tried to goad Michael into playing games with him again. “It'll be fun,” he said, sitting on the couch with one of the controllers.

“Can you even register fun?” Michael had gone straight for the beer, though the look Gavin sent him made Michael pause.

“Yes,” Gavin said, to answer the question. “We had to have been having fun, you were laughing and smiling. That's what humans do when they have fun.” He pointed at the beer bottle and switched topics easily. “Should you be drinking again?”

“I haven't had any today.” Michael pried off the cap and took a swig.

Gavin blinked, slow and precise as he watched Michael drink. “Humans are sensitive to alcohol,” he said, as though Michael didn't already know that. Michael tried to ignore him and keep pulling from the bottle, but Gavin continued to stare, so he growled and shoved the beer in the fridge for later. “Baby,” Michael had muttered under his breath, moving to sit next to Gavin on the couch. “And no, I don't feel like games. Let's watch TV.”

“All right, television it is then. Do you need the remote?”

“Nah.” Michael picked up the controller Gavin had.

“Is the remote nearby?”

Michael stopped then, and turned to stare at Gavin, who was patting down the couch cushions. “I just said I don't need it.” Michael held up the controller for emphasis, the television frozen on the Netflix screen he opened. “Did you hear me?”

Gavin stopped, and looked up at Michael. “What? No, you didn't say anything.”

Michael had brushed the encounter off, but standing here now, in the hallway with his fingers flexing, he knew the error was more than minor. They needed to plug Gavin in manually and double check the AI systems, on top of all the other shit. It was a pile of frustration that would be nothing but the necessities of the job, his team doing what they were tasked, if it weren't for the deadline. One measly fucking week to perfect the functions of their first robot.

He drew in a breath, and opened the door, doing his best to smile when the receptionist looked up. She had tiny glasses sitting on a tinier nose, but responded to Michael's half assed attempt at politeness with a much friendlier expression. “Hi, Mr. Jones. What can I help you with?”

This wasn't the first time Michael had been to the office. His first week at the university, he cussed Gus out for nosing in his business. Michael had been high strung about proving himself for the position, especially with the then whispered rumors of an automaton project, and was driven to the edge at Gus' constant questions about what he was doing there and if he had the proper authorization. They were on good terms now, but the screaming was heard throughout the science building, and Michael had a long talk with the dean afterward. Thankfully no one else proved a better engineer for the new position, and Michael kept his place at the university. It didn't stop the occasional call to the office for a pointed bout of anger, but things got better when Michael met Ryan and the older man started to vouch for him.

He tried to smile again. “Hi, Melissa. Is Joel in?” They weren't big on formalities with the staff, and even being called 'Mr. Jones' by someone that didn't work under him made Michael uncomfortable.

Melissa paused to frown at thin air. “You know what, I think he is.” She beamed at him, as if she lived for helping others and even this tiny bit of information would make Michael's day. “He doesn't have any appointments as far as I know, but I only got in a few minutes ago, and you know Mr. Heyman, quiet as a mouse. Holler to me if he's not there and I'll pen you in for another time.”

Michael had never known the dean to be all that quiet, at least not more than the average person, but he nodded and walked past Melissa's desk without saying anything. Joel Heyman's door was on the wall opposite, made of thick wood with his name carved into a metal plate at the top. Michael tapped once, waiting for an answer. He got none, and opened the door slowly, calling, “Joel?”

To his relief, the dean was there, engrossed in paperwork. He jumped when Michael spoke, looking up and squinting through his glasses. When he recognized Michael standing awkwardly at the door, he took them off. “Oh, hi, Michael. Do you need anything?”

“Um, yeah.” Michael shuffled in and shut the door behind himself, sure not to let the heavy wood slam, lest it startle Melissa. He sat in the chair opposite the dean, ignoring how the hard metal base dug into his thighs. “I have a question about my current project.”

Joel shoved the papers to the side while Michael settled in, giving a sly smile after he finished. “Ah, the robot. Our wonder piece.” The smile gave way to pursed lips, and Joel leveled him a stare. “Why, is there something wrong?”

“No,” Michael assured him quickly. “Well, not exactly.”

“Oh?” Joel sat back in his chair, staring him down. He liked the intimidation route, even if his wiry frame and shallow face didn't allow for a lot of it. What struck Michael harder was the knowledge that he could take him, or anyone, off the project if he saw it fit. Michael's place as an up and coming engineer wouldn't save him if Joel thought he was responsible for all of the recent trouble with Gavin.

Michael sat up straighter and met his gaze. “I don't think Gavin should be shown next week. It's too soon, he's not ready.”

Joel's nostrils flared. “Gavin?”

“Oh, uh, the android,” Michael clarified. “We named him Gavin.”

That startled a laugh out of Joel, and he leaned forward, no longer trying to scare him. “Cute. But, might I ask, didn't we already delay the conference?” He raised an eyebrow, threading his fingers together on his desk. Michael shifted under his gaze, shoulders tense.

“Yes,” Michael said slowly. “But it's still not enough. He-- the android needs a lot more testing. Motor skills, personality, learning capabilities. We don't know what a lot of it does in action--”

“You didn't test it before building him?” Joel said, accusing him.

Michael asked the stars above for the patience not to yell, eyes sliding closed for a brief second before he opened them again. “We tested everything. It's different when it's on the robot and not in the computer.”

Joel didn't answer for a minute, eyes running up and down Michael. “You're the one housing the robot, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well.” Joel shrugged, as if that were the answer to everything. “I can understand your worry, then. You don't want people judging your work harshly. But that's how it works, Michael. A lot of scientific projects are shown in their early stages.” Joel flashed a clever smile. “Do you think we'd wait until we had a perfect cure for cancer to tell people? Or do we let the public know about the little steps that are made, to show them our progress?”

Michael pressed his lips in a thin line. “That's not quite the same--”

Joel cut him off. “Exactly. So we'll show off our robot-- 'Gavin'-- and let everyone know how far we've come. Any flaws are the result of a work in progress.” He looked Michael in the eyes again, gaze narrow and stern. “Is that clear, Mr. Jones?”

“Gavin isn't ready!” Michael protested, working to keep his hands still. “He's hurt himself twice, and he's so interested in learning that he acts like a puppy around everyone he meets. He won't be able to handle something like a news conference, Joel, it'll be too much for him.”

“I'm sure it'll be fine.” Joel's tone left no room for argument, and he unlocked his hands to pick up the papers lying idly on his desk, slipping his glasses back on his nose. “I have work to do. Let me know if we have an actual problem.”

Michael didn't move, waiting for Joel to stop and acknowledge him again, but the dean remained stubbornly focused on his paperwork. After a few minutes without so much as a glance, Michael stood and left the office, slamming the door harder than necessary. Melissa looked at him, mouth hanging open, but Michael shook his head at her and hurried from the room.

So much for that plan. They had a week to get Gavin ready and the dean wouldn't budge on the date. Hopefully Gavin would stay well away from knives, or anything else that could hurt him, but as soon as his finger had been fixed, he'd begged to be shown around the lab more. If he were left alone more than a few minutes, no doubt he would get into trouble again. Michael shivered.

* * *

The scene in the lab when Michael came back did not inspire confidence.

Gavin had been propped up on one of the tables, shirt sleeves hiked around his shoulders, pant legs rolled up, and head whipping back and forth to look at the people surrounding him. Nearly everyone on the team had a piece of Gavin in hand, gawking like a flock of crows at something shiny. When Michael told them to get something done with Gavin while he talked to Joel, he did not mean this. “Excuse me?” he said, walking in fast and pushing Ryan out of the way to get near Gavin.

“Hi, Michael!”

“Shush,” Michael said, eying his team. “Why are you all acting like Gavin's a circus attraction?”

“Gavin had a speech glitch,” Geoff said, running a finger down Gavin's arm. Gavin giggled and pulled the arm away, still smiling at Michael.

“What?” Michael looked at Gavin. “What happened?”

“Nothing!” Gavin insisted. “Pronounced a bit of stuff wrong, no big deal.”

“As if.” Ray stood at Gavin's side, brushing his hair away to inspect his scalp. “He mixed up Geoff and Griffon's names for a good ten minutes. We thought he was kidding at first.”

“They both start with G, not my fault,” Gavin said, shaking his head to dislodge Ray, who only waited for Gavin to still before parting his hair again.

“I was looking for a place where the skull cap might be damaged, though it's probably an internal error. Don't ask me what these other people are doing.”

Michael eyed Geoff, still trying to get a look at Gavin's arms. “I don't exactly oppose an inspection, but this is a little ridiculous. Also, I said no tattoos.”

Geoff frowned at him, finally releasing Gavin and stepping a few inches back. Griffon kept her place in front of Gavin, petting his hair to supposedly help Ray, though her fingers stayed after Ray had finished and moved to the computer at the counter against the west wall. Gavin leaned into Griffon's touch, letting her play with his 'do and adjust it to her liking.

“Are we gonna have to plug him in?” Michael rolled Gavin's sleeves back down and pat the shirt flat, smiling a little despite his sour attitude when Gavin thanked him. “I can get something to pierce the incision.”

“Maybe,” Ray said, opening up the code for the AI from the copied file they had stored. It would be different from what Gavin had now, after spending days around humans and learning from them, his personal code changing with each interaction. Checking the base code for bugs didn't hurt, though. “Does he do anything like this at your place?”

“No, he works fine.” Michael stepped back to let Griffon have her space, as she continued to fiddle with Gavin's appearance. “Other than the first night when he stumbled around a bit.”

Gavin huffed a sigh, as he did any time Michael mentioned his first night in the apartment and the couple accidents that came with it.

“You should let us know if it happens,” Ryan said, breaking from his quiet reverie. “Call one of us or bring him in the lab if he breaks.”

“I am not made of glass,” Gavin said, pushing himself off the table. He urged Griffon off him and stood next to Michael, head cocking. “I'm not gonna stop functioning all of the sudden.”

Michael ruffled Gavin's newly worked hair, drawing a noise of protest from Griffon. “Yeah, well, you already almost broke your finger. We're gonna go ahead and be as worried as we fucking want.”

Gavin shrugged, happy to let Michael touch him.

“Yeah, let's plug him in,” Ray said, spinning in his chair to face the group. “The code here doesn't show any obvious errors. I'm willing to bet it's the learning program.”

Michael nodded, waving at Ryan to come with him to the engineering room. Gavin made to follow, but Griffon stopped him, fixing his hair back to how it had been. Michael snorted at the sight. “Oh,” he said, when they were inside the office. “You're right, I almost forgot. Gavin didn't hear something I said last night, it was like his hearing stopped working for a second.”

“What?” Ryan frowned. “We really need to check him, then.”

In a perfect world, Gavin would be fully operational and they wouldn't have to plug him in after the initial start up. That was the intention when Michael put a solution over the cut in the skin covering Gavin's access port, sealing it closed. But perfection was a long ways off, and they expected they might have to plug him in again. Michael nodded to Ryan and dug in his drawer for a few seconds, pulling out a scalpel that would pierce the glue keeping the cut closed. Ryan watched him, and said, “How was the visit with the dean?”

Michael stiffened at the mention, sighing. “He refused to let us delay longer. The prick compared it to health scientists hiding progress on cancer treatment, even though they _do_ hide things that aren't fully tested. God knows the general public would flip their shit if they heard about every potential treatment, only to learn later that it didn't work the way they thought it would.” Michael flipped the scalpel between his fingers, the plastic casing around the blade keeping his hands safe. “If Gavin stops working for some reason, they'll blame us.”

“Science,” Ryan said with a mocking dramatic inflection. “It's a confusing field to navigate.”

“You're telling me,” Michael said, walking past Ryan to the open area of the lab. Griffon had left Gavin alone in favor of peering over Ray's shoulder, reading the code as he double checked it. Geoff was talking to Gavin about something that made him smile, but Gavin smiled at almost everything. No chance of Michael being able to guess what it was until he could hear them. He walked to Ray instead, showing the scalpel to him. “Ready?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ray stood and waved at Gavin and Geoff. They both walked over, and Ray grabbed Gavin's arm to stand him next to the computer, face toward the wall and hips against the counter, the back of his neck visible to the team. “Stay.”

Gavin obeyed, going comically stiff. Michael rolled his eyes. “This won't hurt,” he said, getting close with the scalpel and removing the plastic lid on it. The small area they left pierced for access to his port didn't have nerves in it, to prevent a hassle anytime the team might need to check Gavin's AI manually. Michael was still careful as he put one hand around Gavin's neck to hold him better. If he strayed more than a half inch from the laceration, he _would_ hit a nerve, and then they'd have another mess like the day before, and fuck if he wanted that. Michael put the knife to the barely discernible cut, pressing gently to break the seal of glue and open the cut.

Ray wasn't nearly as careful with Gavin. He plugged the USB in the port and hurried to check the connection to the computer, jostling Gavin in the process. Michael put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Gavin stayed as still as he was asked, though he did crack a smile at Michael, who frowned.

A short analysis and unplugging later, and Ray shrugged, wrapping the USB cord around his fingers. “I dunno, man, I don't see anything wrong. His memory files are fine, the image and language files are all fine. Probably just a glitch.”

“I don't want glitches,” Michael muttered, though a small weight in his chest lifted. At least Gavin wasn't broken.

“I'm fine,” Gavin said, fussing over the hand Michael still had on him, playing with the fingers.

Michael pulled back fast. He turned to Geoff and Griffon. “Don't you two have work to do?”

“Yeah,” Griffon said, grinning, “We still haven't given Gavin tattoos.”

Michael's nostrils flared. “ _No tattoos._ ”

“All right, fine. Can we do the motor system test then?”

“I can help,” Ryan offered. “Michael, you have stuff to sort out for one of the other departments, don't you?”

Sometimes Michael forgot he worked for other parts of the lab, not experienced or skilled enough to warrant dedication to one area, unlike the rest of his team. He gave Ryan the look of a traitor, and sighed. “I do.”

That seemed to settle the issue. Ray had made copies of Gavin's current files, and went over them now, eyes glued to the computer screen. Griffon took Gavin's hand, brushing her fingers over the back of his palm. “Come on, sweetie, let's figure out if you can walk without hurting yourself.”

Gavin shrunk, his face sheepish rather than offended, the way he was when Michael mentioned his faux pas. “It was one time.”

“I know.” Griffon pulled him toward the other end of the main room. Geoff and Ryan followed, leaving Michael with Ray. But not really, because his coworker was too absorbed in code to bother talking to him. Michael ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and turned to go to his office. Maybe he could take a look at the watering system the biologists wanted for their cross bred trees.

* * *

Motor systems, fully operational. Speech, fully operational. Learning AI, fully operational.

The main checklist of Gavin's systems had perfect marks, despite the speech glitches and the way the android tended to spaz around the room. Michael moved down the list to the smaller systems, the details, double checking each tick on the paper made by either Geoff or Ryan. The two of them spent the last few days at the lab with Gavin, taking him from Michael in the morning and returning him in the afternoon. Michael busied himself with work piled up from the rest of the science department. Everyone loved having help, and as the newest employee and a robotics expert, Michael got dragged to every little project for hundreds of questions, whether about automated systems, potential machines to add to the budget, or even menial tasks like sorting files and getting coffee. The later two he refused to do, accusing the other professors and pseudo doctors of abusing power in a rather loud voice before he stomped out. Either Michael got asked about his area of his expertise, or he didn't help at all, as far as he was concerned. Ryan gave him looks if Michael happened to be yelling close enough for his team to hear, but Michael brushed it off with a shrug and an eye roll. Ryan had been here longer than him; he knew about the hierarchy bullshit.

The time spent away from Gavin, however, resulted in a rather too happy ball of sunshine attacking Michael at the end of each day. Gavin would bound into the engineering office and grab him around the neck-- or waist, or hands, anywhere he could find, because he was touchy like that-- and coo at him that it was time to go home. Michael grumbled about the contact, despite being the one who pat Gavin's back on the way in the apartment door and sat a little closer than necessary when they played video games on the couch. It felt nice to have a body around him, even if it was made of metal, and Gavin's cheery personality made evenings in the lonely apartment much warmer. Michael voiced his appreciation late Tuesday night, after a round of Call of Duty followed by a more relaxing session of Peggle to cool down.

“I like having you around, Gav,” he said casually, pulling cold hot wings from the fridge to reheat for a snack before bed. “It's good to have someone whose ass I can kick.”

Gavin turned from his seat on the couch, leaning over to peek around the kitchen wall. His hair fell in his eyes, and he sputtered, blowing at the strands to get them out of his face. “I like being with you, Michael,” he said, beaming at him. He got up from the couch to walk over, halting at the split between carpet and tile. After the knife accident, Michael doubled his restrictions. Gavin couldn't go in the kitchen, and he was banned from the bathroom, too, lest he accidentally drown himself. He stood obediently at the edge of the kitchen, head cocked as he watched Michael reheat his food. “It's fun spending time with you.”

From anyone else, Michael might have agreed. But something needled at the back of his mind, something that prompted him to say, “I'm not sure you would know what fun actually is, Gav.” It rang similar to his objections the night after Gavin cut his finger, but with less sarcasm.

Gavin furrowed his brow. “What? Why? I have all the information on enjoyable activities. You taught me how to play games because you like them.”

Michael should have shut up, grabbed his wings, and insisted Gavin keep a distance while he ate the messy food before they played another round and he went to sleep. Instead, he said, “You can't experience fun, though. It's a chemical reaction for humans. You just know fun based on being around me.” He kept his eyes on the microwave as he said it, his gut turning over.

Nostrils flaring, Gavin said, “That's mean, Michael. I have as much fun as you.”

“Forget it,” Michael said before Gavin finished. “Just, forget it. Want to play another game of Peggle after I eat? Or is there something else you want to play?” Michael pulled the wings from the microwave and made his way to the living room, avoiding eye contact with Gavin. Gavin turned as he walked past and followed slowly, sitting at his designated end of the couch. Michael took a few tissues from the box on the table and set them in his lap, eating a wing and glad for the excuse not to talk.

But there wasn't any tension when Gavin smiled at him. “Yeah, more Peggle sounds great.” He picked up his controller, which sat on the floor where he left it after throwing it down in a fit because Michael couldn't be better than him when Gavin used his internal programming to calculate the best shots. Peggle was part luck, though, and Michael danced around happily when Gavin got crushed. Now, Gavin opened up a new game for them and left the menu idle, ready when Michael was.

The great thing about having an android, his feelings didn't stay hurt for long. Michael breathed easier and slowed his chewing. As much as Gavin acted like a normal human, he wasn't, and his simulated emotions faded as soon as the context did. If Michael wanted to be happy and play games, Gavin would be happy, too.

However, during the second round of games, Gavin was decidedly quieter, and scored much lower. Michael tried to attribute it to Gavin's power system running on a lower setting for the evening calm. Gavin knew humans got tired; he was probably mimicking it.

The fact that Gavin didn't speak to him again after they ended the game, except to say a monotone 'goodnight,' said something distinctly different. Michael pushed the thoughts away as best he could and crawled into bed, hiding under his blankets from the world.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has another robotic based injury, though there is nothing graphic described.

The moping didn't last long. Wednesday morning Gavin bounced awake at Michael's command, as chipper as ever, and waved happily at Geoff and Ray when they got to the lab. He stayed with them all day, Geoff busying himself as assistant to Ray with the absence of Griffon, while Michael got his own work done. Thursday passed much the same, with the exception of Michael and Ryan handling Gavin for another sensation test-- pleasant feelings only, Geoff silently demanded with a glare-- and Gavin spent the entire time he wasn't telling them what he felt babbling to Michael about how excited he was for Friday and how he couldn't wait to meet all the people at the news conference Griffon told him about.

Michael grunted back at him, scribbling more notes on one of the many forms detailing Gavin's basic body structure and abilities that they had to make copies of for said conference. He was excited, really. Unveiling his first major project, something that he didn't do for education and that he got to meet so many great people doing, thrilled him. Gavin's glitches were at a minimum, and everyone else on the team talked about the conference with enthusiasm. Even Gus said he couldn't wait to show off his prowess. But Michael worried with an intensity none of them seemed to have. If Gavin tripped up talking, or skipped in his steps, or spent the entire time fawning over Michael, the reporters from papers in and around Austin would write about it. Anything negative was a tasty tid bit and an easy path to slander their university. No doubt some of the people from other towns sought to think of ways to say Austin wasn't as great as wherever they lived, that their schools would catch up and build an even better robot. Competition in academia got fucking rough, and Michael didn't want to see the ugly side of an already hard place to work in.

Not to mention Gavin's new 'alone time.'

“What?” Michael quirked an eyebrow at Gavin Thursday afternoon, an hour before they were supposed to go home.

“I need alone time,” Gavin repeated, looking at Michael from the doorway of the engineering office. His eyes were wide and he kept glancing away, toward the main room. Michael sighed and tapped his pen against the counter.

“Okay,” he said, giving Gavin the benefit of the doubt. “Supposing you do need alone time. Why all of the sudden? You have plenty of alone time at the apartment.” Gavin _didn't_ need it, though. He had no hobbies or private activities, to Michael's knowledge, and Gavin voiced everything he thought. If something came up, Michael knew.

“I need it here,” Gavin said, still being vague and now shifting on his feet. “Please, Michael? There's something I have to do.”

Michael wanted to say no, to tell him that he was being ridiculous and they were going home soon. With the news conference looming over their heads, they both had better things to worry about than whatever imaginary need Gavin came up with out of the blue. But he was bouncing now, his heels moving faster with each second Michael didn't answer. Gavin had a case of something bad.

Anxiety, his mind whispered to him, as Gavin looked him in the eyes again. Gavin was nervous, though he showed nothing but excitement about the conference and the publicity it entailed. “Does it have to do with showing you to the public?”

Gavin shook his head fast. “No, it's a secret!”

Actual five year old Gavin Free the android. Michael snorted. He wouldn't be able to keep any secrets in this tiny lab. Michael would find out soon enough, and if he allowed a little private time now, Gavin would stop pacing in place and Michael could focus on the data he needed to enter before he left. “All right,” he said, slow and careful, smirking at Gavin's beaming face. “Whatever the hell you wanna do, go do it. Just don't hurt yourself and be ready to leave when I say so.”

Gavin nodded and dashed out of the engineering room as fast as lightning. Ryan wandered in after he left, looking curiously at Michael. “He wanted to leave, some secret little project he's got,” Michael explained, flicking the nearest computer on. “I think it's something with Geoff, he was staring in that direction of the lab.”

“Oh.” Ryan walked to Michael and peered over his shoulder. “Is everything ready for tomorrow?”

Michael blew out a long breath. “As ready as it's fucking going to be.” He cracked his knuckles with a quick stretch of his fingers. “My hands are getting' pretty stiff from all this typing.”

“Yeah.” Ryan moved from the desk to grab a few stray papers and tuck them in an organized pile. They finished the bigger tests, and wouldn't have to worry about being questioned, but the smaller tests, like linguistic skills and concentration times, only had the raw data from the coding. If one of the reporters caught them in a data hole, there would be a blow out. Ryan put a paperclip on the papers and returned them to their table, now easy to grab and ready for them to glance at tomorrow when they prepared for the conference. “Maybe you two should relax tonight.”

Ryan caught Michael's eye as he said this, and Michael jolted, caught in watching Ryan work rather than entering almost meaningless numbers on the screen like he should have been doing. “Yeah,” Michael said, nodding to cover up being caught and opening the closest file to check over and update the results. “Maybe.”

“I'm serious.” Ryan crossed his arms, keeping his gaze on Michael. “You've spent all your nights in with Gavin. We're going to reveal him to the public tomorrow, so, I dunno, why not go out?”

Michael spun fast, forgetting the tedious task he'd been absorbed in. “Hell no, why would I do that? He barely functions in the fucking lab.”

“Hey.” Ryan lifted his hands defensively. “It's just a suggestion. It might help you both calm down, especially if Gavin's hiding away with some secret project. No one will know he's a robot.”

“Except anyone who hears or sees him glitch,” Michael spat, turning back to his monitor. “If he ever goes out, it'll be _after_ we reveal him to the press and let them have their parade day with him. They'll do anything they can to make conflict and I don't need accusations of misuse of university property on my record.”

“You already have that on your record.”

There was a beat, and Michael flushed. He almost forgot about the incident with the robotic arm and a physics student that wouldn't leave him alone; it happened several months after they started Gavin, back when he only existed as blue prints and a half finished AI. It took Ryan and Gus both to talk the dean down and keep Michael from being kicked to the curb that day.

“My point still stands,” Michael said, the last of the heat in his voice gone.

“Just a suggestion,” Ryan repeated. “I wouldn't blame you for it.” He turned on another computer, inserting a flash drive into the port on the hub. “I'm gonna back up some stuff and head out early, okay? The wife wants me home on time for once.”

Michael shrugged, more focused on losing himself in his own work. With over an hour left, he could do a substantial amount and get his mind off Ryan's suggestion.

Taking Gavin out, as if he were a normal person. Michael tsked to himself as he worked. Gavin would gawk and scream at everything he saw, pointing at this or that and asking Michael what it was. He might have a basic education installed, but he had the personality of a child, too eager to do things with no filter for what he said.

Michael stayed another forty minutes, wasting some of the time checking email and going over code that Ray had checked a million times. When he looked at the clock again, Michael slumped with relief and gathered his things, assured he wouldn't feel too guilty leaving now. Ryan went home long before, as well as almost everyone else in the lab. In the main room, Gus was in the corner, on a computer. Michael left the light on for him as he searched for Gavin, poking his head into Geoff and Griffon's office. “Gavin?”

His back was turned toward Michael, bent over Griffon's work table. Gavin squawked at the sound of Michael's voice, scrambling to cover what he was doing. Michael waited for him to settle, shaking his head helplessly. “I don't give a fuck what you're doing,” he assured Gavin. “Come on, it's time to go home. We gotta rest for the conference tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Gavin squeaked, dragging whatever he had in folded arms and working to put it in one of the desk drawers without Michael seeing it. Michael took pity, looking away to give Gavin some freedom. There was a slamming noise and the scraping of metal, and Gavin was beside him, still nervous, but smiling. “All right, Michael, I'm ready.”

“Good.” Michael put his hands in his pockets. They left the lab together, Gavin sliding in easily to the passenger side while Michael revved the engine. Ryan's advice kept floating around his head, a seemingly harmless suggestion that Michael knew would be bad news. Gavin wouldn't be able to function in public, not with the manners he had right now. Any activities Michael could think of-- shopping, mini golf, eating out, go karting-- would have Gavin yelling and looking to Michael for guidance every second. They could stay in and play games, but they always did that, and Michael didn't think he could be sick of video games, but it was starting. He needed a night of not playing Xbox and not sitting like a useless potato on the couch. The problem was keeping an eye on Gavin.

“Hey, Michael?” Gavin looked at him, and back out the car window. “Isn't Frankenstein a book?”

“I-- what?” Michael glanced out the passenger window. Gavin was looking behind them now, at a building that had passed on the road home.

“Frankenstein,” Gavin repeated. “I saw it on a sign by the theater.”

Michael's brow furrowed until the information clicked. “Oh, that new horror movie. Yeah, it's a book, but nobody's read it. Did Ray put that information in your head?”

“I know about a lot of books that are read in high school,” Gavin said, still peering through the window, though the theater was three blocks behind them. “American high schools, anyway. I think Ray based my education on what he learned in New York.”

That shouldn't surprise Michael, but then again, they didn't plan on Gavin sounding foreign until the AI was almost done. The clash of Gavin's knowledge with his appearance was an unplanned accident. It was just like Griffon to wait until the last minute to make stupid changes like that, but they couldn't do anything now. America and Britain weren't so different that a lot of people would call them out on it, especially if the interviewers were American. Anything Gavin said outside of his stupid slang wouldn't catch them off guard.

“Can we see it?” Gavin said suddenly, facing Michael. “That movie?” he continued at the look Michael gave him.

Michael's nostrils flared. A movie might be good for him, to feel like he wasn't doing nothing while relaxing and letting himself get absorbed in something else. And he needed dinner, too. They could go to the Drafthouse and order a pizza for them both to avoid any questions about Gavin not eating. Gavin wouldn't have anything to get excited about except the movie itself. Michael could tell him to be quiet and hold his questions for the end or else he would be shushed by the employees. Obedient robot that he was, Gavin would probably shut up. He knew how to listen to rules when they mattered.

Michael slowed the car, pulling up to the sidewalk. He didn't put it in park yet, thinking to himself. Gavin whipped his head around. Michael raised a finger to stop him before he said anything, considering. “Okay,” he said after a long moment. “We can see a movie. If,” Michael looked Gavin in the eyes, “you promise to be quiet and not make a huge fuss. Other people will be there and they'll get pissed if you make a ton of noise.

“We can see it!?” Gavin practically jumped out of his seat, smiling wide. “I'll be quiet, Michael, I promise! Let's see a movie! I really want to see it!”

“Calm the fuck down,” Michael said, starting the car again with a laugh. The drive to the Drafthouse was close to the college campus, and they had to backtrack their path. It was far better than any other movie place, and the employee's low tolerance for bullshit of any kind had spoiled Michael for other theaters. Gavin sat back in his seat and played with his pant legs, fighting a grin and biting his lips. The artificial material of the teeth wouldn't pierce the skin, but the amount of pressure he was giving it made Michael glance over to make sure he didn't cut his own lip by mistake.

It wasn't quite evening yet, but the early crowd was in the theater, snatching seats fast and going in to order before their shows started. Michael parked and got out, catching the passenger door and blocking Gavin's path before he could stand. “Listen,” Michael said, and waited until Gavin was looking at him. “These people don't know you're a robot. No one is supposed to know yet. Behave, be quiet, and if you ask a million questions, I swear to Christ, we'll leave in the middle of the movie and you won't ever be allowed in public again.”

Gavin watched Michael carefully, frozen halfway between the seat and the pavement. He didn't give the usual cheeky smile and assure Michael everything would be fine. He just nodded, and said, “Okay,” before standing fully and shutting the door. Michael walked ahead, keeping an eye on Gavin and searching the crowds, heart beating fast. All it would take was a misstep, a strange movement, for someone to ask what was wrong with Gavin. And the idiot would spill everything about glitches and program issues without thinking, he would tell everyone--

“Michael.”

Gavin stopped them, one hand on Michael's bicep. “You're tense,” he said simply, head cocked.

Michael let out a long breath. “Yeah, I just. I wasn't planning this.”

There was a smile then, unlike in the car, and Gavin swayed into Michael, knocking their hips together gently. “Michael, it's all right. I won't tell anyone, I promise.” His forehead bumped Michael's temple, and he nosed in Michael's hair. Michael tried and failed to suppress the shudder it sent through him.

“Okay,” he said, pushing Gavin away. “Let me get the fucking tickets, you moron.”

Gavin waited with hands in his pockets, silently admiring the interior of the cinema, while Michael bought the tickets. It sucked to pay for two dinner shows, but it was his only choice. He held his hand back when Gavin reached for his ticket. “Nuh uh, you can't be trusted.”

“But!” Gavin whined and swiped at the tickets Michael held over his head. “Aren't I supposed to give it to the ticket lady?”

“One person can hand over tickets for other people.” Michael flicked Gavin on the forehead, and Gavin dropped his arms to rub the brief pain away, mumbling to himself. Michael took the chance to slip around and fork their tickets over, motioning to Gavin when the ticket holder pointed them to the right door. “Come on, Gav.”

Gavin shook his head and sulked over to Michael. As with everything Gavin did, though, it only lasted a moment before he looked up and marveled at the building around them. The architecture didn't hold his attention as well as the people, and he glanced from one to another on their walk through the lobby and down the carpeted halls. “There's so many,” he whispered to himself, staring at an older man dragging two kids around, and whipping to look at a couple holding hands on their way out of an afternoon show. They kept his attention longer, and Gavin almost walked straight past Michael as he watched the couple over his shoulder.

“Gavin!” Michael had to yank on his sleeve to stop him. “This is our show, pay attention.”

He smiled at Michael and looked behind him one last time. The couple had disappeared around the corner. Michael rolled his eyes. “I told you, no weird stuff. Let's find seats before the good ones get taken.” He pushed Gavin through the door, and they searched the dim room for the perfect spot.

Michael found it, near the center and not yet crowded by other people. In all likelihood they would be flanked on either side by latecomers and have to deal with kitchen staff walking in front of them, but it was better than taking the few seats left next to giant parties of people talking loudly about what they wanted to order.

They sat down, and Michael pushed his menu away. He already knew what he wanted, a regular pepperoni to enjoy without worrying about the taste or any mess, and a large soda. Gavin, however, picked up his menu and ran down the list, fingering the pages and running his pointer over each item, deciphering exactly what they were. His lips moved as he read each name, curving over the words with barely a whisper.

“You can't eat,” Michael said, trying to grab the menu from him.

Gavin held firm, his eyes glued to the paper in the plastic sleeve. “I know that. I wanna know what people eat in a restaurant.”

“You already know that,” Michael said, sighing. He left Gavin to it, though, writing down his order on the paper the Drafthouse put on the tables at each seat. Soon enough a waiter came to take it, running down the row and picking up orders to start them as soon as possible.

He paused at Gavin, who was still reading. “Sir?”

“He's sharing my pizza,” Michael said, trying again to take the menu. Gavin held tight.

The waiter scrunched his face. “All right,” he said slowly, moving down the table to take the rest of the paper orders.

Michael yanked the menu away, ignoring Gavin's noise of protest, and set it on the other side of the table. “You're gonna get us in trouble,” he hissed.

“Me this, me that,” Gavin said, crossing his arms and pouting. “Stop telling me what to do!”

Michael rolled his eyes, and ignored the twinge of guilt in his gut.

The movie started, and Michael forgot his worries for the time being. Mindless horror and action were what he needed to unwind. The waiter returned with his pizza, putting it halfway between Michael and Gavin. Gavin peered at it, as he did with a lot of food, but made no move to eat. Michael took a slice, glad Gavin was smart enough in that respect.

The tension died with the story, as Gavin got more absorbed in what was happening. A remake of Frankenstein wasn't the most original, but it was a quality production, and the action captivated them both. Michael ate his pizza and sipped his drink, finished with both by the end of the movie. The story arc concluded as he took the last sip and set his drink on the table. It slipped and clattered to the floor in front of them, rolling toward Gavin's feet. “Shit,” Michael muttered, bending under the table to look. He couldn't reach it from his seat, and didn't feel like crawling under and making a lot of fuss when the show had gone smoothly thus far. “Gavin,” he whispered, pointing to the empty drink. “Can you get that for me?”

“Yeah.” Gavin smiled, no longer upset, and bent down to grab the drink. He reached with his right hand, but paused. Michael lifted an eyebrow as he quickly switched to his left and leaned the few extra inches to snatch the container and put it on the table. Michael looked at Gavin, and down at his hand, tucked against his leg.

The screen went dark and the lights came on. Michael shot out of his seat and grabbed Gavin's hand before the robot could stop him, splaying the fingers out on his palm. “Why'd you switch hands before?” he asked, shoving them closer to the table to let the other patrons walk past.

“No reason,” Gavin said. His high tone betrayed a lie.

Michael glared at him. “Move your hand, then. Make a fist for me.”

Gavin whined and squirmed away. Michael caught his arm and held fast, lips raised in a snarl. “Gavin, make a fist.”

“I can't!” Gavin yanked his arm away, cradling his right hand with the other. It sat, limp and useless. Michael never knew Gavin to be limp unless he was in sleep mode. The fingers dangled and his wrist hung loose, dead. Something happened, either Gavin dinged his hand on the car door or caught his hand in their grapple for the menu or . . . something. Michael shook his head, breathing quickly. Gavin was hurt, his hand wasn't working. This wasn't an AI problem or a glitch. Gavin was broken.

“Come on.” Michael took him by the good arm and pulled Gavin out, rushing them across the parking lot to the car. Gavin went wordlessly, broken hand waving like a rag doll at his side. Michael urged him in, slamming the door and struggling to get the keys out of his pocket. He gunned the engine, rushing as fast as he dared down the street. Cars crowded the streets, traffic filled with those coming home after a long day at work or going out for a night on the town. Michael cursed and slapped the steering wheel more than a few times. Gavin sat silently, still nursing the broken hand.

The lab wasn't open, but Michael had a key. Everyone on the team did, for emergencies. Times like this. Michael set Gavin on the table in the main room and pulled his phone out, tapping Ryan's number wrong twice before he got it and hit call. He tapped his foot impatiently, teeth grinding until he heard the click, and a low, “Hello?”

“Ryan!” Michael gasped. “Can you come to the lab? It's an emergency, it's Gavin--”

“Michael,” Ryan said, stopping him. “Calm down, what happened?”

“He's broken!” Michael hissed, impatience running like fire in his veins. “He fucking-- his hand broke! Don't ask me how, just get the fuck over here, I need help!”

Ryan paused, and Michael could heard another voice. Ryan's wife. It was about dinner time. No doubt Ryan had planned on a quiet evening with his family after leaving the lab early. Michael swallowed around the uncomfortable lump in his throat. Another reason not to take Gavin out again.

“Okay,” Ryan sighed, less panicked than Michael thought he should be. “I'll be right there.”

Gavin continued to cradle his hand while Michael paced on the phone. Michael caught him pressing against the wrist, the joints of his fingers, as if acupuncture would work on metal and plastic. He said nothing while Michael talked, staring at his hand. After hanging up, Michael rushed to him and grabbed him again, peering at his hand for any obvious marks. The skin was perfectly intact, with no odd noises or smells coming from it. “I bet a motor broke,” Michael said, working around the different parts of the hand. In the quiet of the lab, assured that Ryan was on his way, his panic died, and he could think rationally. A broken motor wasn't anything to worry about, really. They could pierce the skin and repair it in an hour. It could have waited until tomorrow, they would even have had time before the news conference for it. The robot mechanics weren't as complicated as replacing nerves, which were buried under the plastic skin and had delicate connections to one another. This was less of an issue than the knife cut. Michael eyed the finger of Gavin's left hand, to the pointer, where the repaired cut from the knife was, and held Gavin's hand tighter.

Ryan arrived a half hour later. Michael had spent the time uselessly going over Gavin's hand and shushing him when Gavin tried to object. There wasn't any pain, which reassured Michael, but relief still washed through him when he saw Ryan. “Thank God, I--”

“Not in the mood,” Ryan said, putting up a hand to cut Michael off. “How is Gavin? What happened, exactly?” He stood by the table with his hands on his hips, glancing between them both.

“Uh,” Michael stumbled, surprised by Ryan's roughness. Yeah, it was late, but the attitude was so completely unlike Ryan that it took him a minute to collect his thoughts. “We went out, like you suggested,” Michael said, careful to keep the blame out of his voice, “and Gavin's hand stopped working. He couldn't pick up a cup when I asked him.”

Ryan looked Gavin up and down. “Did you plug him in yet?”

Eyes widening, Michael shook his head. “Fuck, no, I-- I thought the motors in his wrist might be broken.”

“Come here.” Ryan tugged Gavin off the table and led him to the nearest computer to boot it up. While the screen flickered and the machine whirred to life, Ryan pulled out a cord and brushed Gavin's hair back, slipping the plug in the open part of the skin. Ideally, the port was a special access point that Gavin would only need if he broke down completely. The team hoped they wouldn't have to use it at all, and so sealed it with industrial glue. With all the recent glitching, though, Griffon suggested leaving the incision open. It was small enough to stay closed on it's own, and prevented a mess every time they needed to look at Gavin's AI. Securing the USB, Ryan took the other end of the cord and put it in the computer. He opened Gavin's files, searching the coding for anything unusual.

Michael stood nearby, kicking himself for not thinking to check the AI. But if Gavin's hand couldn't move--

“Here it is,” Ryan said, pointing to a clutch of coding, buried in the sensory detection files. “The signals to his hand aren't sending properly. It's not responding to the AI.”

“What.” Michael swallowed, and shook his head. “I could have sworn--”

“You could have _checked_ ,” Ryan said, frowning. “It took me long enough to get here. You didn't think to plug him in first? We can have this fixed in a few minutes with Ray's help. _Tomorrow_.”

Michael had nothing to say to that, and looked away.

Ryan sighed, unplugging Gavin and shutting the computer down. “Be careful with him tonight, watch the hand, and I'll text Gus about it. And Michael.” Ryan waited, until Michael was looking at him again. “I know I said you could bring him here for an emergency. But this was just another glitch.”

“How was I supposed to know!?” Michael hissed. “He couldn't use his fucking hand! I thought we'd be screwed for the conference! I panicked!”

As he spoke, Michael caught sight of Gavin in his peripheral, holding his broken hand close and staring at the floor. Michael's shoulders fell and he turned to him, brow furrowed.

Walking past them both, Ryan said, “I understand, but next time, try to keep calm. Unless Gavin stops talking or shuts down or something, it's probably something that can wait.”

The words stung, especially looking at Gavin, who refused to meet Michael's eyes. Michael stayed where he stood, listening to Ryan walk out and shut the door behind him. He pulled the man away from his family, from a quiet night at home, one of the few nights he left early specifically to be with them. He got it, he really did. It didn't stop Michael from clenching his teeth and cursing at himself and Ryan, wishing they went home without a fuss instead of going to a fucking movie and starting a mess. At least in the apartment Michael would have had the calm to call Geoff or Gus, not rush Gavin away from prying eyes and whisk him back to the lab. Gavin was their project, he couldn't get hurt. Could Michael really be blamed for panicking?

Yeah, he could.

He slumped, walking close to Gavin. The android kept his gaze trained on the tiles. “Come on,” Michael said. “We can go home, fix you up in the morning.”

Gavin nodded and followed Michael silently out of the lab. He didn't look at Michael on the ride home, or when they got to the apartment. It wasn't until Gavin was on the couch, broken hand in his lap, and Michael got the beer he desperately needed from the fridge, that Gavin spoke. “Would you be upset if I got hurt, Michael?”

“Hm?” Michael walked back to the living room, too tired to put much thought into Gavin's question.

Gavin turned to him, finally looking directly at Michael. “If I got hurt, if I stopped working, would you be upset?”

Michael shook his head, not to say no, but to clear it, and sat down beside Gavin. “Well, yeah. You're, like, the most important thing at the school right now. That's why I was screaming at Ryan. If you break on my watch, it's my fault and I'll probably be fired.”

Gavin bit his lip. “All right.”

His drink halfway to his lips, Michael paused, and put it on the coffee table. “Hey,” he said, quiet, taking Gavin's broken hand. He cradled it as gently as Gavin had, like a butterfly or a tiny flower, running his fingers over Gavin's. The skin was warm thanks to the heating system, and the silicone felt almost real. Michael did his best to smile. “I'm glad it's not serious,” he said, shifting closer and leaning in, his face a few inches from Gavin. “I'd hate to see you hurt, Gav.”

Gavin tried to look away, to keep the smile off his face, but he wasn't programmed to hide his emotions. He smiled a little and put his good hand over Michael's, pressing lightly. “Thanks,” he murmured. “Tonight was kinda nice.”

“What, your hand breaking? Me yelling?” Michael snorted.

“No.” Gavin shook his head, and closed the space between them to lean his forehead against Michael's. The tiny knock pushed Michael back an inch, and he shoved back, making Gavin smile bigger. “I meant you,” he said. “Worrying about me, it was nice. Even if it's just because I'm expensive.”

Something small tore in Michael's heart at those words, at the way they sounded coming from Gavin, and he breathed hard through his nose in shock. He worked through the lump in his throat, trying to speak, to break the sudden tension in his body.

“Michael,” Gavin said, before he could form the words. “Your face is hot.” He dropped the smile, pulling back and putting his working hand on Michael's forehead, brushing the curls back to feel his skin. “Really hot. Did you get a fever?” Gavin looked at Michael, all sense of emotion, the deep emotion Michael could have sworn he saw that was nothing like the simulated effects he watched Griffon program into the computer, completely gone. It was replaced with curiosity and slight concern. “A lot happened, I guess,” Gavin reasoned, pressing harder to gauge Michael's temperature.

“Y-Yeah, a lot of stuff.” Michael squirmed away, standing, too hot for comfort. He shucked off his sweater and tossed it over the back of the couch. “I'm gonna take a shower, see if that makes me feel better. Just, I dunno, relax.” He rushed down the hall, ears burning and forehead tingling from where Gavin touched it. This was bad. Oh, God, this was bad.

The shower burned and Michael groaned under it, eyes closed as he let the water fall on his face. The heat wasn't like the boiling in his skin. It stung like poison, and Michael imagined it burning away his anxieties and fears, along with the feeling of Gavin touching him closer than he ever dared.

They had a news conference tomorrow. Michael had to focus on that. Gavin had to be in top shape and ready to catch anything that happened, even tiny speech glitches. They would be asking a million questions and Gavin would be expected to answer at least a few, if only to sate their curiosity about his capability as an AI and an android. Michael ran through possible scenarios in his head, the things the reporters would ask and what the team could tell them, until the memory of Gavin's fingers on his face was nothing but that, and his artificial breath ghosting over Michael's cheeks couldn't be felt anymore. Michael turned the shower off and stood for a few minutes, hands itching at his sides.

He wasn't sure he could recall the last time someone looked that concerned for him.

Shaking the last bits of the instance away, he got out and dried quickly. With the shower off and the steam clearing, the sounds of something in the kitchen caught his attention. Michael froze halfway through putting his shirt back on, lips parted at his own reflection in the mirror. Kitchen noises. Gavin, alone.

Fuck.

Michael yanked his shirt down and rushed out, skidding to a stop on the carpet. There Gavin was, stood innocently in the kitchen, holding the coffee pot. “Oh!” He hesitated, and put the pot back on its stand, smiling at Michael. Beside the pot, on the kitchen counter, a fresh cup of hot coffee with milk was releasing tiny puffs of steam. “I heard the shower stop,” Gavin said, “so I poured you a cup. I thought you'd want some.”

“Gavin,” Michael said, pushing past him to get around Gavin's back and shove him away from the counter full of dangerous things like his knife set and the toaster and the microwave. “I told you to stay the fuck out of the kitchen.” Michael let go when Gavin was back on the boundaries of the hallway carpet, standing firm at the kitchen entrance to stop him from going back in.

“I know!” Gavin puffed his chest out, defensive. Freed of the coffee pot, he held his broken hand again, keeping it close and out of the way. “It was just coffee. You didn't look good, Michael, and you like coffee. I thought it'd cheer you up.”

Michael stopped the scream waiting in his throat, staring at Gavin. He opened his mouth a few times and closed it just as many. Gavin grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “You do like coffee, right?”

“I-- yeah,” Michael admitted, looking at the cup waiting for him. “It's not, uh. Not the best thing for a fever. Not that I have one, but, you know.”

Gavin pursed his lips. “I didn't have any data on fevers except that it's good to drink fluids and relax. You didn't seem keen on the relaxing part after all the panic.”

Snorting, Michael finally picked up the mug. “Fluids usually means plain water,” he said. He blew on the surface of the drink and took a sip. It was extremely bitter, but also very creamy. Gavin used too many coffee grounds and a ton of milk, probably to balance it. Though how he would know to do that at all puzzled him. Gavin had no taste buds. “Thanks, Gav,” he said, biting back the shudder at the absolutely awful flavor. He swirled the cup, thinking of what Gavin asked when Michael blushed harder than he had in his entire life. “For future reference, I _would_ be upset if you got hurt, and not just because of your price tag. You're a good friend.” Michael raised the mug, as if to prove his point, and took another bile raising sip. He'd throw the stuff out when Gavin wasn't looking.

Gavin beamed, arms coming up automatically for a hug, limp hand dangling uselessly. He couldn't cross the threshold to the kitchen, and whined to himself when he realized it. Michael laughed and shook his head, coming to Gavin instead. He put the cup down and hugged him tight, face tucking against Gavin's. Gavin returned the affection with enthusiasm, the pressure on Michael's back almost a relief, like letting Gavin hold him would crush all his worries.

If Gavin wanted to be friends, it wouldn't hurt Michael to let him think that. The AI was learning as best it could about human interaction, how to talk and act around people who thought the best of Gavin, and the friendlier it acted, the better. Michael could sort out his own feelings later. He breathed in the scent of plastic and generic cloth Gavin carried around, lacking a natural human scent.

A false friendship wouldn't kill him.  


	9. Chapter 9

“There, brand spanking new.” Ray tapped Gavin's wrist for emphasis. He turned around to close the files on the computer behind him, and unplugged Gavin.

Gavin flexed his newly fixed wrist, testing each finger, and smiled. “Thanks, Ray!”

“No problem,” Ray muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Michael crowded Gavin as soon as Ray finished, holding his hand and testing it for himself. Gavin hummed low and let Michael work each of his fingers, pushing them closed and opening them again, watching the programmed reflex curl them into a relaxed position after he straightened them out. “Looks good,” Michael said, and sighed.

They had a few hours until the news conference, which was scheduled for noon. The entire team would be there with Gavin and the dean for an information session; a brief description from Gus about what exactly they were doing, followed by a Q&A. The reporters would be free to ask Gavin anything, if they so chose. Gavin talked about it on the way to the lab early that morning, thrilled with the thought he could show himself off to people who didn't know how he worked. Michael had nodded along with him and side eyed his broken hand, still laying limp in Gavin's lap.

It took Ray half an hour to fix the signal, but he did, and sat down in one of the several wheeled chairs lying around the room. “That was almost an issue,” he said, looking Gavin up and down.

“Thank fuck it wasn't.” Michael cupped Gavin's hand one last time before letting go and giving Gavin a soft smile, which Gavin returned. He'd gone quiet again, like he had when they fought Tuesday night. But the smiles and little looks didn't stop, and Michael wouldn't question it if they were getting along.

More concerning was the way Gavin looked at Geoff and Griffon's office. Said couple were working in there, bringing up old blueprints to go over and explain in brief to the reporters. They asked not to be disturbed by the team, but Griffon waved at Gavin when he walked in with Michael and announced that the robot was perfectly welcome.

That raised Michael's suspicions. When Griffon said she didn't want to be bothered, she meant it. Gavin didn't hesitate to take advantage, though. “Can I spend time with Geoff and Griffon?” he asked, looking at Michael hopefully. “There isn't more testing, is there?”

“No,” Michael said, staring at the Ramsey's closed door. “But are you sure you should bug them?”

“It's not bugging!” Gavin insisted, doing the bouncing thing he did when he got excited, like a child on their way to a party. “I have something to do in there.”

“Oh?” Michael raised an eyebrow.

Gavin didn't miss a beat. “None of your business, nosy,” he said, turning his head up in mock indignation. He'd gotten better at playful teasing, daring to call people on the team by pet names or make jokes that didn't quite make it because Gavin would get a word wrong or use inappropriate context. Culture wasn't his strong suit.

Michael eyed the door again. “Fine, but I reserve the right to barge in if I need you.”

“Got it!” Gavin leaned in and gave Michael a tiny hug before he dashed to the other side of the room. He knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response, slipping in and out of Michael's sight.

Ray tilted his head to look at Michael over the back of his chair. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Michael shook his head. “Gavin likes time away from me, I guess.”

Ray snorted. “Which is weird, since he doesn't shut up about the stuff you two do at the apartment. I'm pretty sure I didn't program him with the 'blather endlessly about Michael' option.”

Michael laughed and ignored the way blood crept up the back of his neck. He left the main room in a hurry, aiming to find Ryan and get started on their end of the preparations.

Gus came in shortly after Michael found Ryan in the engineer's room. He poked his head in to check on them. Assured that they were both working diligently, he ducked back into the main room. Michael could hear him talking to Ray through the thin walls, asking about the latest file update.

He knew when Ray mentioned the signal malfunction, because Gus screamed, “What?!” and barged back in their office.

“Gavin broke his hand?!” Gus' nostrils flared, hand tight on the edge of the doorway.

Michael shrugged and looked pointedly at Ryan. “I thought it was serious, too, Gus. I even came in late last night and _begged_ Ryan to help me, but Ryan told me to wait until morning.”

“It was a coding glitch!” Ryan said, finally bringing his head out of the box of tools he'd been digging in. “I was tired and I thought Ray could fix it this morning. According to _Michael_ , he did.”

“That doesn't excuse it!” Gus growled and darted his gaze between them, but he didn't have anything good to say that wasn't more yelling. “Fucking tell me that shit next time,” he said, and vanished again.

“I thought you _did_ tell him.” Michael looked at Ryan, who shrugged and buried his face back in the box.

“I may, uh, have forgotten to send that particular text.”

Michael blinked at him.

“It was late!” Ryan tried.

“Right, whatever.” Michael rolled his eyes. Extra stress for Gus usually meant less for the rest of them, though he did worry the man might have a premature heart attack. That wasn't their main concern right now.

All that had to be done for the conference was make sure they had the answers to any questions. Michael looked at the papers in front of him, reciting information from his head as he read it, everything practically memorized after hours of going over it with the team. Gavin had too much information inside his body for Michael to be prepared for anything at the drop of a hat, but he could go over the basics and wing his way through anything else. It was like cramming for a test, except with more on the line.

Last night's promise didn't help, distracting Michael every few minutes with the memory and the way Gavin felt in his arms, how soft his voice was when he thanked Michael for hearing him out. He'd called Gavin a friend. As if a computer program could be a friend. It was like calling a tamagotchi a pet. It could show all the signs of loving you and spit out little eight bit hearts all it wanted, and it didn't matter because it wasn't real. And neither was Gavin's friendship, which Michael knew from the moment he brought the android through his apartment door.

Which begged the question, why did he feel so awful? Assuring Gavin they could be friends under false pretenses would be bad enough if he were human, but the AI couldn't really feel.

Michael chewed his lip as he worked. He _wanted_ to be friends with Gavin, and if that were the only issue, he wouldn't have to think about it. No matter what Gavin seemed to want, it wasn't a real desire. He couldn't want to be friends in return, not the same way Michael did.

His heart beat too fast at that thought. Michael shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, trying to bury himself in his work. Get through the news conference. Work with the team. Gavin is a robot and he doesn't need looking after and the night before meant _nothing_.

“Michael?”

He looked up at Ryan, his eyes pinched close from staring at the papers. He had to blink a couple times to readjust.

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Michael pushed the papers further down the desk and stood. “I know everything we need to, I think. Let 'em lob questions, I guess.”

Ryan pursed his lips, and turned back to the box he was fiddling with. No doubt searching for some tool he could use to show off if the reporters wanted it. Gavin was a solid being, but he looked almost perfectly human. They might not believe he was a robot, and if that happened, they needed to be able to prove it. Ryan beamed when he found what he wanted, an extra USB cord to take out of the lab and a tiny hand held tablet they used to display information when a laptop wasn't available. Almost every other cord they had was plugged in and backing up data to external devices, just in case. Public reveals could go ever so wrong.

Michael decided to take his sulking outside, while Ryan fiddled with the tablet. He left the room and turned to see Ray and Gus bent over a computer, scanning over files and manually going over the important ones. Michael settled against the counter top nearby, chewing his lip again.

“Hey, it's my favorite team!”

The three men in the room jolted from their respective distractions, turning to look at the door, where their dean had just burst in, clapping his hands and smiling at them. “Where's everybody else?”

“What?” Ryan stepped out from the engineer's room, slipping the cord and hand held in his pocket. “Oh, hi, Mr. Heyman.”  
“Joel, please,” Joel said, tipping his head in a tiny nod to Ryan. “And the designers?”

Thankfully the doors were as thin as the walls. Geoff, Griffon, and Gavin all came out from the couple's tiny office, bewildered and mildly disturbed. Gavin was brushing something from his hands on his pants, walking behind Geoff and Griffon.

Michael quirked a brow at whatever Gavin was wiping away, and then their eyes met and Gavin bounded over, swinging an arm around his shoulders. “Hi, Michael!”

“Hey, buddy.” Michael gulped and put a hand over Gavin's forearm where it tucked in close to his neck. All feelings of fake friendship and AI blew away like dust in the wind when Gavin smiled and stood proud next to him, keeping his arm on Michael.

“Huh?” Joel stepped over, looking over the pair. “Is this who I think it is?”

Professionalism kicked in, and Michael sidestepped away from Gavin, who whined quietly at the loss. He stood straight and nodded stiffly. “Yes, sir, this is our android. Gavin.”

“Hm.” Joel didn't hesitate to bring a hand up and rub it through Gavin's hair, trailing down his arm and squeezing the bicep. Michael had the urge to shove it off, and resisted. “Pretty.” Joel pulled back and looked to Geoff and Griffon. “He's British?”

“Yes,” Geoff said, moving closer to Gavin and putting his body between him and Joel. “Didn't we email you? Griffon was authorized by Gus to change his accent.”

“Oh, Melissa probably caught that.” Joel side eyed Gavin again. “I like it. A little exotic flavor will get some extra buzz.”

Geoff shifted further in front of Gavin. Michael thanked him for his fatherly instincts.

“Well, we're almost due!” Joel swiveled to look at the rest of the team, spinning in a half circle. “The news conference starts in a couple hours. Are we all ready?”

“We're set,” Gus said, breaking his stoic silence. “Is the room set up?”

“Not quite.” Joel glanced back at the door. “They're setting up microphones and stuff. But you should see it! There has to be at least a dozen people with cameras and microphones.” He smiled again. “This is going to be the best thing the university has done to date.”

“Sounds great!” Gavin, ever the optimist, looked between Michael and Joel, and paused. “Um, your name is Joel?”

“Hm?” Joel had been looking around the lab, staring at the equipment. None of it was very impressive; they didn't have the funding that the biology department did. He'd pursed his lips as he stared at the computer Ray and Gus were working at, but stopped when Gavin spoke. “Yes, I'm Joel.”

“Nice to meet you!” Gavin stepped around Geoff and put his hand out, straight and sure and automatic. Michael sucked in a breath.  
Joel stared at Gavin's hand, and laughed. “Ha, how charming! He shakes hands!” Joel brushed Gavin's hand for a brief moment, and drew back. “I should check how they're setting up. See you later.” He turned and swept out of the lab, though he paused to poke at one of the welders Geoff had left on the table, unused since they put Gavin together. And then he was gone, leaving a staleness in the room that had everyone stiff and hardly breathing.

“Seriously, fuck that guy.” Michael shook his head, hair falling into his face. “Charming my ass, does he _know_ what kind of complexity it takes for an AI to know when to greet someone, to control the mechanics to shake his goddamn hand?”

“Calm down.” Geoff put a hand on Michael's shoulder. “He doesn't know how much work went into Gavin. I bet he barely thinks about how long it took. We'll have the meeting and impress some people and then he won't bug us about this again.”

“Michael, why are you upset?” Gavin closed in his other side, head tilted. “I'm nothing special.”

Michael snorted. “Yeah, sure. The most expensive piece of machine in this whole school isn't important.”

He wasn't looking at Gavin, and turned when the closeness of him vanished. Gavin had moved back, closer to Griffon, his arms wrapped around himself. “Machine?” he whispered, so quiet Michael barely heard him.

Michael swallowed. “Gavin—”

“I'm going back to the office. Come get me when it's time for the news thingy.” Gavin gave Michael one last glance, and walked out, closing the Ramsey's office door tight behind him.

Griffon glared. Michael jolted. But she said nothing, only grabbed Geoff's arm and pulled him with her, following Gavin out. Michael watched them go, searching for a glimpse of Gavin when they opened their door. He saw nothing and kept staring at the door after it closed again.

“Hey.” Ryan broke him from the reverie. “Is everything okay?”

“I-- yeah, it's fine.” Michael shook himself. “Let's, ah, go work on something. I dunno.”

He should have felt better, hiding in his office and burying himself in papers again. There was nothing he needed to look at, though, and Michael ended up looking past them, mind swimming and fists tight in his hair.

* * *

The team walked to the conference together, all seven in a big group that had to move around students and professors in the halls. They stayed together, unwilling to break into small groups for the sake of the people walking the other way. Maybe it was cheesy, but walking in a group helped. They weren't each one part facing the situation with other people. They were a team, a family.

It was hard to think that way when Gavin stayed quiet all the way to the conference room in the main university building. He shrunk away when Michael tried to get close, ducking behind Griffon or Geoff, both of whom sent death glares at Michael. He would yell and demand that Gavin stop being such a baby, but they didn't have time to make a scene. And Michael didn't want to dwell on how Gavin's looks sent ice stabbing at his insides. No time to get emotional over a bunch of motors and electric pulses, they had to focus on showing him off and gaining as much praise as they could from the public.

About the third time Gavin flinched away from Michael as they brushed together in the crowded hall, Michael had had it. “What?” he asked, his tone lacking its usual heat. He tried to tell himself it was because of all the people around them. “What did I do, Gavin?”

Gavin just shook his head and moved closer to Griffon.

“Is she your new mom or something?” Michael hissed.

“Michael--” Geoff started.

“No, fuck this. He never tells me what's wrong! He's a big fucking baby!”

“Michael.” Geoff lowered his voice, staring him down. “Not now.”

Michael looked at the floor, lip pushed out just slightly. When Geoff shot him another look, he straightened up. They had to look good for the conference, even if Gavin was doing the weird pouty thing. They could sort it out later.

Noises burst from the conference room. Wires poured out from under the door. The school was videotaping the entire thing, to let segments be shown on the local news. The team could hear the reporters through the door, buzzing and flipping through papers and talking to the partners from their respective news stations about the camera work. Michael peered around the crack where the door stood ajar to get a look at the mess.

It opened, nearly smacking Michael in the face. Gavin couldn't hold back his giggle, and Michael whirled around, angry for a second before he saw the tiny smile. Instead of yelling at the android, he gave a soft grin and shrugged helplessly. Take what he gives you, Michael thought, before he turned back to see whoever had shoved the door open so fast.

“Hey, guys!” It was Jack, this time in a button down and slacks, with his trusty notepad at the ready. He took a quick look at the team, and settled his eyes on Gavin. “Are you ready for the conference?”

Gavin glanced at Michael and jerked his arms in an uncommitted half shrug. “If I get to do it with Michael. If he, uh.” He looked at Michael again. “If Michael's ready.”

Michael snatched at the forgiveness, sidling close to Gavin and putting an arm around him. “We're more than ready.” Lower, so Jack couldn't hear, he whispered, “We're doing this together, boy.”

Gavin beamed and shoved lightly at Michael. Jack's brow drew together at the sight, and he laughed. “Well, it's good to see you two getting along. Last I remember Michael was screaming at you.”

“He still does,” Geoff said, shooting Michael a pointed look. He didn't forget offense as easily as Gavin. Michael shifted his feet and kept his eyes on Gavin.

“I gotta get back in, I was just catching some air.” Jack breathed deep. “Caleb and I have been up since six getting ready for this. I think everyone else did, too. They've all got super long lists of questions.”

“Great,” Michael said, rolling his eyes.

“It will be,” Griffon insisted. “We can handle this.”

“I hope so. See you inside.” Jack waved and slipped back inside, leaving the door ajar again. The team stood in the hall, against the walls. Michael bumped Gavin with his hip, just to be sure, and smiled when Gavin bumped him back. Geoff's nostrils flared, but he didn't say anything else, discussing topics with Griffon instead. Ray and Gus were both quiet, too absorbed in themselves to make conversation. Ryan tried to talk to Michael, but Gavin interrupted them twice, and he said nevermind. Michael wanted to reprimand Gavin, until he gave him those puppy dog eyes, and he couldn't say anything else to upset him.

Joel was there in a few minutes, hair newly gelled and shoes properly shined. He adjusted his tie as he walked, stopping short in front of the team without looking at them. “Hey, are we all good?”

“More than good,” Ryan said.

“Great, great.” Joel pat his hair again, taming any cowlicks that might have popped during the walk from his office, and pushed the door open. He strode in, and the team of The University of Texas' first ever android walked behind him. Michael stayed at the back with Gavin, who brushed his hand against Michael's. Michael resisted the urge to take it and hold it close, standing straight and waving at the rows of reporters lying in wait.

There had to be at least a dozen, maybe two, from all over Texas. Local papers, city papers, news stations, all dressed in suits and holding notepads, laptops, or tablets. Many had cameramen with them, holding bulky video or picture cameras. Jack was in the very front with Caleb, scribbling on his pad. Caleb had a small video camera on his shoulder. A newspaper couldn't publish video, but no doubt the camera took pictures as well, and they could always pull shots from video feed. Better to not risk losing a special moment with slow shutter speeds.

In the front of the room, a raised platform with a row of tables, covered in a drape to create the illusion of a single continuing surface, was set up for the team to use. Joel took the seat to the far left. Ryan and Michael followed him up. Gavin insisted on being next to Michael, so Geoff went after Gavin with Griffon, and Ray and Gus took the last two seats. Once all eight were seated, Joel spoke into the microphone set up in front of him. “Welcome, everyone, to the official unveiling of our university's first successful robot.”

“Android,” Michael corrected, leaning in to his mic and jumping at the volume.

Joel went on, unperturbed. “We are very proud of this project, and we look forward to sharing it with the public. Our special humanoid robotics team will explain a little about the project, and then we'll open the floor to questions.”

Gus stood up before anyone asked him to, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I am Gus Sorola, and this is my team. All six of us worked dutifully on the university's android project. We have spent over a year on this project.” He addressed the crowd, though he glanced at Gavin briefly. “We were assigned to build a robot as close to human as we could get him. An android, that could replicate human reactions, do human jobs, and learn about human life. He's smart and capable.” Michael snorted at that. Gus shot him a look. Cameras flashed as the reporters hurried to catch the moment. Gus straightened himself out. “He was designed by Geoff Ramsey and Griffon Ramsey. Ray Narvaez and I gave him a functioning AI that can learn anything, like a person. Ryan Haywood and Michael Jones built him. You'll have to forgive us, because he speaks with a British accent. Griffon Ramsey's idea.”

The women in the room perked up, looking between the team members. They hadn't said much about the project in public. Joel took over most of the articles printed over the last few months. No one outside of the school knew the team.

But Gavin was the only one not wearing a long sleeved coat and nametag, and their eyes settled on him quickly. Sensing their eagerness, Gus gestured toward him. “This is our android, Gavin.” He motioned for Gavin to stand.

Gavin looked at the reporters, at Gus, and nodded. His chair scraped the floor of the platform and he jumped a little, but Michael put a hand on his arm to steady him. Gavin drew back, eyes flicking to Michael before he faced the crowd again. “Um, hi.”

The first question shot across the room like a volleyball lobbied over a net. “How do we know that's a real android?”

Michael got up fast, just after Gus had taken his seat, ready and willing to shoot down the non believers. “I'll show you,” he said, and grabbed Gavin around the shoulders. He turned him around until his back faced the audience and brushed away the hair from his neck. “This is his access port.” Michael gently pried open the slit in the skin that covered the USB port, leaving it open for a moment while they took pictures, and pulled back, letting it fall closed. He sat back down, drawing Gavin to his own chair. “Other than that, his external appearance is completely human. We did our jobs right.”

“Of course, I wanted something that could work easily with humans, without freaking anyone out,” Joel said, adjusting his tie. Michael narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

After the dam had been breached, nothing stopped the reporters, flashing through their notes lightning quick for the next big question, shouting above each other and jostling in their seats. The impulse to stand and tower over the crowd for attention almost got a few of them, men and women alike shifting a few inches off their chair before they remembered this was supposed to be a polite conference, and sat down.

“How long did this take?”

“Fourteen months,” Geoff said.

“Why is he British?”

“For fun,” Griffon said, laughing to detract from accusations about being unprofessional.

“Can he eat?” A young blonde woman asked this, typing fast on her netbook and peering hopefully at them. Michael looked at Gavin, tilting his head encouragingly. This conference wasn't just for the team, it was for Gavin, too, to show them what he was made of, in a figurative sense. Gavin frowned at him. Michael gestured to the microphone, insisting.

Gavin sat up straight. “N-No,” he stuttered, “I don't eat.”

The woman-- her nametag said Dunkelman-- stared at Gavin a moment, and looked at the other members of the team, still waiting. Michael shifted in his seat. “He said he can't eat, he's an android.”

The woman instantly turned her eyes to her computer screen, typing the answer as fast she she could before looking up again. Michael's lips twisted in an uncertain scowl.

If it were just that woman, he wouldn't mind so much. He could tuck away that information and be wary the next time he saw her, or anyone from her news team. He recognized the logo on her name tag. But the next question that Gavin could answer also got intercepted.

“What does the android do when he isn't at the school? There are rumors that he lives with one of the team members.”

Gavin brightened a bit. “Yeah, I live--”

“He lives with our youngest engineer, Michael Jones.” Joel had cut him off, flashing a smile at the reporter who asked. Michael didn't hold back this time, glaring at Joel until Ryan touched his shoulder and shook his head. Michael sighed and looked to Gavin, who was staring at the table. Ah, great. Michael did his best to rub Gavin's leg reassuringly, hidden behind the tablecloth. Gavin shook his head and tucked his leg closer, away from Michael's touch.

“And what activities does the android take part in?”

Knowing Joel couldn't answer this one, Michael said, “We like to relax and play games together.”

A little gasp rolled off the crowd, pens scratching and fingers typing. Taking the encouragement, Michael nudged Gavin's shoulder. “Tell them,” he whispered, away from the microphone.

Gavin flinched at the contact, but nodded. He leaned forward to get close to his mic and tried to summon a smile. “Yeah, Michael and I love video games. He even got me a gamer tag.”

The blonde woman at the front, Dunkelman, let out a snicker. Other reporters who heard her laughed as well, stifled giggles erupting from the crowd. Gavin frowned. “Was that funny? I wasn't trying to be.”

“He's telling the truth,” Michael said. “He's very good at games.”

“Excuse us, Mr. Jones,” Jack said, his own laughter dying at the look on Michael's face. “We've never heard of a robot so immersed in human recreational hobbies, that's all.”

Michael didn't think that was all, but he couldn't silence them. Joel would have his head. Instead, Michael leaned back and let out a strong breath through his nostrils. Gavin's shoulder dropped, and he pulled his hands off the table, clasping them gently in his lap.

Further attempts to get Gavin engaged went about as well. If he said so much as a word, they all marveled at his speech and made comments about his accent-- was it from Sussex or London?-- rather than listening to what he had to say. Michael had to interject just to get his answers about sleep, lab work, and communication across.

“He's so cute,” a young man said, standing at the edge of the room. “Like this toy I bought my niece for her birthday.”

Michael almost bolted out of his chair. Ryan saw him flinch and pushed his palm against Michael's leg, a steady pressure that reminded him where he was. Michael settled for keeping his eyebrows permanently furrowed and crossing his arms. He refused to answer more questions, but they were soon directed at the other team members, now that the mundane curiosities of Gavin's personal life were properly invaded.

Gavin sat sagged for the rest of the conference.

“And we are out of time!” Joel clapped his hands together and gestured to his watch. “I'm sorry, everyone, but I promised an hour and a half, and I've got a busy schedule.” He stood as he spoke, waving at them. “Thank you so much for coming!”

After Joel stepped down from the podium, taking the time to shake hands and say a few more words despite his supposedly tight schedule, the reporters lingered. They got up slowly from their chairs, some urging their partners not to turn off cameras or recorders, some still writing down as much as they could before they were asked to leave, and quite a few staring at the robotics team. Gavin hid behind Michael while they shuffled out, and that he didn't go to Geoff or Griffon right away helped melt the anger winding through Michael's chest.

Jack caught them outside the door, Caleb trailing after like an obedient puppy. “Guys, guys,” he said, jogging to catch up until the team collectively turned. “Hey, I was wondering if I could get a personal quote or something?” He held up the notepad hopefully, a new page ready and waiting for his pen.

Scratching the back of his neck, Ray said, “I'm kinda tired. That wore me out.”

“Wore _you_ out?” Michael wanted to say. But he bit his tongue.

“I'm bushed, too.” Geoff stepped closer to Jack, waving a hand dismissively at the rest of them. “I'll talk to you, Jack, let them get back to the lab. Maybe take the rest of the day off.”

“For once, I wouldn't be upset about skipping a day.” Gus cracked his neck and wasted no time turning to walk back to the lab. Ray and Ryan followed just as fast.

“Oh, I, uh.” Jack glanced over Geoff's shoulder. “I was hoping to talk to Michael.”

“Aw, come on. I'm as tired as everybody else.” Michael tilted his head back, bumping Gavin's shoulder. Gavin let out a tiny yell and put his hands out to support Michael's weight, which Michael was slowly putting onto him. “I wanna go back and maybe tinker with some stuff. Or go _home_.”

“I wanna talk to Jack!” Gavin said, trying and failing to get Michael to stop leaning on him.

Jack smiled, and Michael stood abruptly. Gavin's momentum tossed him forward into Michael's back. He grunted at the weight, but looked resolutely at Geoff. “I'm _really_ tired. And I'm not letting Gavin talk to anyone by himself.”

Geoff nodded his sympathy. “Right. Just go home, don't bother with work. Jack, I can answer any questions. Griffon, too, if she wants.” Geoff looked to his wife, who had been watching Michael and Gavin. She broke from her trance, and nodded.

Jack sighed, glancing at Michael one last time. “Okay, then. Thanks, guys. Hey, Gavin, maybe we can talk some other time?”

“Yeah,” Gavin said, with a few quick nods. He'd looked at Jack more than once during the conference, jumping in to answer his questions when he could, until the crowd got so bad that he settled into silence. Michael _would_ let Gavin go and talk to the one person outside their team who took the android seriously, but his desire for his couch and a hot lunch were stronger, and it was like he said. He wouldn't let Gavin talk to a reporter, not even Jack, after that fiasco.

“Come on,” he said, taking Gavin's wrist lightly. “We're gonna go home.”

Gavin frowned, but agreed. “Okay. Bye, Jack! Come to the lab again, all right?” He waved at Jack, while Michael led them in the opposite direction down the hall. He didn't bother to see if Jack waved back, and didn't stop them until they were well away, in a quiet hall with no one else around. Once he was assured there would be no eavesdroppers, Michael pulled Gavin up short. Mercy on anyone who happened to walk in on them.

“Hey,” he said, keeping a hold on Gavin's wrist. Gavin flinched when Michael put a hand to his face, stroking lightly. “How are you? Okay?”

“Wh-- Yeah.” Gavin tried to shake Michael off and failed. “I'm all right.”

Michael's lips pursed. “Those guys treated you like assholes.”

Gavin pulled again and Michael let him go. He shook his head a few times. “It's all right.”

“Gavin,” Michael tried, but Gavin had moved back, putting space between them. This wasn't like Gavin, not after they _just_ made up. Where was the touching and the cooing about how they could go home and play games and have fun after the terrible afternoon? What the fuck was his problem? Michael growled quietly and yanked Gavin close, double checking the hallway again before he hugged him. “You're mad at me again,” Michael accused, ignoring the way Gavin went stiff. “Can't you just tell me what I did? I don't.” Michael paused, and tucked his chin into Gavin's shoulder. “I don't wanna treat you like those dumb reporters.”

“You are kind of an asshole, though.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, and Michael shoved off Gavin, frowning. “What?”

Gavin shrugged, the movement sharp and short rather than casual. “Asshole means jerk, right? You've been a jerk lately, Michael. At least those reporters were doing their jobs.” He scuffed a shoe on the ground, not meeting Michael's eyes. “I wanted to talk to Jack, he was the only nice one there. It's not your job to treat me like I've got no feelings.”

Michael bristled. “I don't! I didn't! I said you're my friend!”

“But you keep talking about me like a machine! How much I _cost_! If your goal was to build a human like robot, you failed, because having a price on my name doesn't make me feel any more human than a goddamn toaster!” He clenched his hands into fists and stalked down the hallway, arms stiff and feet taking long strides, running from Michael as fast as he could.

“Fuck.” Michael hurried after him, nearly tripping on his own shoelaces. “Gavin! _Gavin_. Come on, you know you're my best friend.”

“Aren't friends supposed to stick up for each other?” Gavin said, not stopping. “Those reporters didn't answer anything I said and you sat there like a knob.”

“Do you know how much I wanted to punch them?”

“Then why didn't you?”

“Gavin, fucking, come here!” Michael leaped forward and caught Gavin's arm. He tried to stop him. Gavin wouldn't let him, using all the power in his motors and the weight of his body to keep trodding forward. Michael planted his feet down and yanked. Gavin shifted but kept moving. “Damn it!” He was done with this. Michael reached up and pulled hard on Gavin's hair. The pain receptors in his skull would light up, confirmed by Gavin's yelp. He halted, hands flying to his head. Michael used the momentum and carried Gavin into the wall, pinning him there with his body. He checked the hall again, but a class must have been going on, because he still saw no one. Thank God.

“Listen to me, you little British shit,” Michael hissed, keeping a hand in Gavin's hair. “I care about you a whole fucking lot, like, more than a lot of people I know, okay? And, yeah, you're expensive and you matter to the lab, that's not gonna change. We built you for a reason. Gavin.” Michael jerked on his hair again, forcing Gavin to look at him. “We live together. We hang out. If I didn't want you around, I would have kicked you out by now. Geoff and Griffon could take you, I see the way they dote on you. Geoff always wanted a son, anyway.”

Gavin's eyes got wide and scared. If his pupils worked, they would have blown up with shock and fear, swallowing his irises. As it was, they stayed still, but the little flinches of his eye lids and the furrowing of his brow told Michael enough. He relaxed his grip and lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “But I didn't tell them that,” he said. “Because I like having you around. I--” He swallowed back his own saliva, sure he would choke. “I care about you. And like I said before, you're not just machine. It's just. Yeah, that.” Words bubbled to his lips, something Michael was sure he would be doomed to hell for saying, and so he locked them away and instead went silent, hoping Gavin could see the honesty in his face.

Gavin relaxed. His feet, resting on his toes, straightened on the floor. He put his hands down from where they sat against Michael's chest, letting them fall against his side. He kept looking at Michael, who finally released his hair and stepped back.

A long moment of silence passed between them. Gavin fidgeted, as he was wont to do when he felt nervous. Movement meant motors working and nerves pulsing, no doubt easier for Gavin to deal with than the silence that came with his body not humming with life. Michael let him have his time.

“Can you stop calling me that?” Gavin asked.

“What?”

“A machine.” Gavin pursed his lips. “A robot, an android, equipment, like you did in the conference. If I'm your friend, call me that.”

“Oh. Um.” Michael bit at the inside of his cheek. “When we're in the lab--”

“Call me your friend,” Gavin insisted. “I'm more than a robot, Michael.”

His face was heating up again. Like that night, when Gavin felt so close and so vulnerable and he begged Michael to care about him, laughed because Michael panicked over his harmed hand, made him coffee while disabled to help him. Michael worked to keep the sudden flush under control, tugging at his collar. “Yes,” he said, answering Gavin's probing stare with his own. “I can do that. I can call you my friend. I'll stop calling you a machine.”

Even though it was the technical term and everyone else in the lab would be using it and Michael would have to answer if Joel asked him because the nosy bastard would never understand being friends with a machine--

His thoughts stopped when Gavin moved closer, still frowning but no longer glaring at him with all the heat of the electronics whirring under his skin. “Thank you,” he said, putting his hand on Michael's shoulder. “I still wanna know why you didn't stick up for me.”

Michael gulped. “My bad, you're right. I should have.” And Joel would have killed him for ruining their professional image, but excuses didn't matter right now. What mattered what Gavin's face relaxing and that tiny smirk coming back, the switch of his emotions flipped now that his worries had been calmed. He drew his hand off Michael, letting it slide down his arm until it fell back at his side.

“Top. Are we still going home?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Sure.” Michael blinked and shook himself, waving off the burn of contact. “Let's go.”

It wasn't an amiable ride home. Gavin kept up some of his grousing despite the apology. He sat lower in the seat than usual in the car, and wandered the living room instead of sitting down. After the movie theater, Michael didn't dare take him out again, not for a while, and there wasn't much to do in the apartments. Even lunch-- which at this point would be an early dinner-- would be a Michael centric distraction, not enough to stop Gavin's pacing. He shrugged his coat off at the door and tossed it on a chair, watching Gavin meander about for a few minutes.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, and, when Gavin paid him no mind, clicked his tongue. “Hey, Gavvers. I'm bored.”

Gavin froze, and blinked slowly, as if his huffing needed only an extra bit of attention to disperse. “I dunno. I guess we haven't played games in a while.”

“Perfect.” Mundane and a little stale at this point, but it was something. Michael turned on his Xbox and picked out a few games, shoving them at Gavin. “Find one,” he said, and went to the kitchen to get himself a soda and snacks. He returned with a coke and a small bowl of pretzels, setting them on the coffee table. Gavin had laid out three of the games Michael gave him, perched atop the Xbox. He had one of the two controllers, already versed in flipping through the menus. Michael joined him on the couch. “Which did you put in?”

“I didn't put any in. They're all there.” Gavin pointed lazily at the Xbox.

“You didn't even put a disc in? God damn it, Gavin.” Michael groaned dramatically as he got up, glancing as discretely as he could at Gavin and cheering internally at the tiny giggle Gavin let out. Mission accomplished, he put in the Halo disk, which Gavin insisted on picking during their game sessions even though he sucked royally at it, and returned to the couch. The second he plopped down, Gavin stood.

“Do we have a camera around here?” he asked, glancing around the room.

Michael sat up and raised an eyebrow. “I think, in my bedroom. Why?”

“Be right back.” Gavin turned to leave the room. Unable to resist some mischief now that Gavin seemed to have relaxed, Michael stuck his foot out to block his path. Gavin walked straight into it and yelled, barely catching himself from smacking into the floor. He frowned at the offending leg, and at Michael, fighting against the smile Michael could see twitching the corners of his lips.

“All right, all right,” Michael said, drawing back. Gavin thanked him and sped out. Michael took the liberty of going through the game menu until he had a level set, and threw his arms over the back of the couch. He could hear banging and British curses from his bedroom, and shouted, “Don't break anything!”

A few minutes later, Gavin emerged, holding the camcorder Michael rarely used. He fiddled with it, pawing at the buttons. “This, how do I use this?”

“Gimme.” Michael snatched the camera and turned it on, checking the battery and memory space. There was enough for several more hours, at least, thanks in part to Michael never touching the thing after his mother gave it to him for his last birthday. She thought he got too cooped up in the lab and encouraged him to use it to film friends. Michael tossed it in his bedroom closet almost immediately. “There,” he said when he turned it on, handing it back to Gavin. “Why do you want that?”

“I thought it'd be interesting to record us,” Gavin said, perching the camera on the table until it had Michael firmly in view. Once set, he grabbed his controller again and sat down. “You always get so mad and then insist you were being reasonable. I'm gonna play that back and prove you wrong.”

“Did you even press the record button?” Michael got up and checked the camera, holding down the button next to the power until the red light came on. “And you bet your fucking ass I'm justified in whatever the hell I do.”

“Yet you still deny it.” Gavin waved his controller. “Defeat is not the worst of failures.”

Michael snorted and took his place beside Gavin, shoving him with his shoulder. “Did you get that from one of the books Ray programmed in your head? It's not defeat to defend myself when you accuse me of cheating.” Michael got himself situated, leaning over his thighs with controller in hand, smirking at Gavin. “This'll just be video proof of how much better I am than you.”

Gavin smiled back, the first honest smile since he'd gotten upset that morning, and mimicked Michael's position. “We'll see about that.”

Michael, as usual, kicked Gavin's ass more than once. But Gavin pulled out a few moves that shocked him, and Michael had to admit he was learning, getting better. Another testament to his AI, he could learn motor control and mission goals and incorporate them into what he already knew. Michael's chest swelled with pride to know it was partly his doing.

They played Halo for a few hours, and moved on to one of the many Lego games Michael had, which were surprisingly good for kids' games. He fired up the Playstation and loaded in Lego Racers. Michael, knowing each of the races, let Gavin play the single player and instructed him along the way, laughing his ass off when Gavin took his advice and crashed to his death numerous times. Ray, lacking knowledge of driving himself, didn't have the foresight to teach Gavin anything about it.

“You're cheating!” Gavin said, hot under the collar in a metaphorical sense as he scrambled the car around the screen.

“I'm helping,” Michael insisted. They'd been going at games for a few hours, and even though it was only early evening, his lids were starting to droop. After the stress of the conference and dealing with an emotional Gavin-- a word Michael hesitated to even _use_ with the android-- he wanted to slip into bed and forget the day. No doubt he would wake up in the middle of the night if he crashed this early, but he could always read a book or hit YouTube if he couldn't fall back asleep. “Okay, Gav,” he said, when Gavin crashed the car again, “I think I'm going to hit the hay. I'm beat.”

“Hit the hay? What hay?” Gavin paused the game and raised an eyebrow at him.

Michael rolled his eyes. “I'm going to bed, Gavin. You don't have to if you don't want to.”

“Oh, okay.” Gavin set the controller down and brought his bare feet up to the couch, cradling his chin on his knees. “If you're tired, I'll sleep, too.”

“You don't have to.”

“Yeah, but.” Gavin smirked. “It's no fun around here when you aren't awake.”

Michael shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He got up, almost leaving the room when he caught sight of the video camera. He'd almost forgotten about it. Michael turned it off and set it down on its side. “I can't wait to have a look at your stupid face every time I blew you to smithereens,” Michael said, snickering.

Gavin didn't answer, and Michael turned to see him pulling the blankets he kept folded on one side of the couch, spreading them out and tucking a couple pillows against the arm. He curled up and settled in, synthetic hair poofing up as he fell into his nest. He peeked his eyes open to look at Michael, and smiled. “Goodnight, Michael.”

“Goodnight, Gav,” he said automatically, not moving when Gavin closed his eyes and shut down his systems, his breath slowing to a quiet rhythm. Michael hadn't seen him sleep since that first night, Gavin's unnatural stillness seeping into his bones and making him shudder.

Stepping closer, Michael settled quietly on the other arm of the couch, silent even knowing that Gavin wouldn't wake again until Michael gave the verbal command. He let his eyes roam his form, from the hair that puffed around his face to the hands curled under him, and his legs, tucked in to make his form small, like a baby bird. Michael looked back to his face, automatic twitches going through the skin to mimic human movement.

Gavin demanded to be treated like a human. He wanted Michael to call him his friend. Sitting here, seeing the peace in his body, more similar to a human than Michael thought he could be, he wondered why he ever insisted on calling Gavin a machine in the first place. Hell, he was nicer than most of the people he'd met.

For a brief moment, Michael even thought that Gavin, sleeping, without the human world to intrude and confuse his systems, looked beautiful.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Michael sighed for the hundredth time that day, but smiled as he shoved away the hand prying at the system he was currently working on. If he took his eyes away for a moment, that hand crawled back, trying to grab anything from under Michael and inspect it, to get him riled up and burst into laughter at his reaction. Michael was in too good a mood to get worked up, though, and merely pushed the hand away again.

“What's my little Michael working on now?” Gavin, not giving up in his endeavors, peered over Michael's shoulder. His hand creeped between Michael's arms again to fiddle with the device. Michael growled playfully and smacked him away, drawing the pile of hardware and tools closer to his body.

“None of your fucking business,” he snapped back. There was laughter in his voice that told Gavin he meant none of what he said, and the robot crept close again. Michael raised a leg from his chair to kick at him, sending Gavin stumbling back with a squawk. “Yeah, learn your place,” Michael said, picking up a screwdriver. “I got work to do and I don't need you poking your enormous nose in any of it.”

“But Michael!” Gavin stood close again, though he kept his hands to himself this time, biding until Michael dropped his guard and he could try again to snatch whatever parts he could. “My lovely little boy, I want to know what you do all day without me.”

“Get shit _done_.” Michael slipped a wire into place, holding it with one hand while he searched for the glue bottle with the other. It slipped between his fingers suddenly and he looked up to see Gavin grinning at him. Michael took the bottle from him without comment and cemented the broken plastic of the wire casing closed.

“What is this, anyway?” Gavin poked at a piece of plastic. Michael quickly pushed it away from him, and continued fiddling with his wire. The plastic wouldn't fit together and he had to bend inexplicably close to see what he was doing. His glasses tipped down his nose and the pliers he was working with almost fell from his hands.

“Computer hard drive, I told you.” Once the plastic clicked into place, Michael held it with the pliers, waiting for the glue to dry. He could have gotten a new wire entire, but the process of finagling it between the multitude of other wires connecting the hard drive to the rest of the computer hub didn't interest him. He preferred repairing old parts of the original to wasting materials getting a new one, as long as it didn't hurt the function. The tech lab gave him the hub to mess with in his free time, and if no other department was going to use it, Michael would fix it however he saw fit. So he glued together plastic on the exposed wires instead of replacing them.

“It doesn't look like one.” Gavin snatched a piece of the casing before Michael could take it away from him, flipping it over and over in his hands.

“It's the entire machine, the hard drive is inside.” Michael shoved Gavin in the side, prompting another cry, and used to distraction to grab the piece back. “A lot of the wires are missing or broken. It's just something fun to do when I have nothing else.”

Gavin glanced around the lab, empty hands fiddling with the pockets of his jeans. “You never had time to let me hang out with you before.”

“Yeah, well.” Michael didn't offer further explanation, grabbing his pliers to fix another wire back into place. Gavin would be the _last_ to hear about how much Michael liked having him in the office, noisy environment aside. And after the entire escapade with Gavin that weekend, seeing him upset and demanding decent treatment, Michael would rather get yelled at by Gus or Joel than push Gavin off on his coworkers.

At any rate, after the public reveal, there was less of a push to fix anything and everything about the android. He still had little bugs and glitches and they could work on that, but the team had other work to do. Griffon was the school's resident artist, putting a good face to a reputable name in multiple science departments, where they lacked creative minds that had the training she did. Geoff acted as both her assistant and a mechanic, fixing broken down machines as a more glorified janitor. Gus and Ray were in the tech lab on a day to day basis, and Ryan worked with Michael, learning about advancements in robotics, trying to create their own, and designing machines and systems to help the rest of the school. They were in charge of Gavin, and would be the ones dealing with him when team work wasn't urgent.

So really it was Michael's responsibility to watch Gavin no matter what. The happenstance that testing him required everyone but Michael almost all of the time was not his fault. Watching Gavin putter around his office and ask questions, AI whirring and systems lighting up in response to touch and sense gave him a sweet satisfaction that Michael hadn't felt since they started the project so long ago. He looked up from his work now to see Gavin clicking around the desktop of a computer, opening a game of solitaire. “What's this? It doesn't look like your video games, Michael.”

“Card game,” Michael said, hiding his smile in plastic and wires. “You have to line up all the colors and symbols in four piles by flipping cards from the layout. But you can only go through the main shuffle three times, or you lose. Be careful.”

Gavin sat himself down and started clicking on the virtual cards. Michael giggled quietly.

After the first couple of losses, Gavin declared the game stupid and shut the window. “I'm going to Geoff and Griffon's office,” he said, turning to leave.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on.” Michael hurried to set down his tools and whirled in his chair, wheels drifting on the linoleum floor with the force of it. “I gotta keep an eye on you while no one's here.”

“Griff's in there,” Gavin said, pouting.

“She's not in charge of you.”

“It didn't bother you before.”

Michael opened his mouth, and shut it. He had no excuse for keeping Gavin to himself when he so readily got rid of him in the weeks previous, new determination aside. Sighing, Michael said, “All right, but no knives. I mean it, I am _not_ having another disaster. Word'll get out and then the news will jump like sharks to wreck our perfect image.” After a relatively normal news conference, any bumps in the road would be candy for the media. Michael blew air hard from his nostrils at the thought.

Gavin waved a hand at him. “I know, I'll be safe.”

“Hey,” Michael said, just as Gavin was stepping out of the door. “What are you working so hard on in there?”

He grinned. “That's for me to know and you to . . . bollocks.” Gavin's face scrunched. “How did that go again?”

Michael just laughed and turned back to his work. Gavin settled for the butchered turn of phrase, and Michael was left alone, with nothing else to do except fix wires and wait for everyone else to come in to the lab.

Geoff had picked up Ray again and came in an hour later. Both men had Starbucks coffee in hand, and when Michael poked his head out of his office, raising a questioning eyebrow, Geoff said, “Ray wanted it, not me.”

Ray grinned as he held up his own cup. “A buddy I know works there. He heard about the robot stuff and offered us free coffee if we came in so he could brag about knowing one of the guys who built Gavin.” He swirled the cup victoriously and took a sip, licking cream off his lips.

“It's out already?” Michael stepped fully out of the office, one hand still holding his pliers. He swung the hinge back and forth to occupy his fingers.

“Did you not read the paper?” Geoff drew out said item, which had been tucked under his arm with his phone and keys, and tossed it to Michael.

Barely catching it and nearly snapping the tip of his finger off with the pliers, Michael stared at the headline of Saturday's paper. _Local University Unveils Android: The Secret Revealed._

“I thought we could hang that on the wall,” Geoff said. “It's in today's paper, too, and it's been all the fuck over the news. Did you live under a rock or something for the weekend?”

“Kind of, yeah,” Michael said, slipping the pliers in his pocket and taking proper hold of the newspaper, opening it to read the main story. There were several pictures of them from the conference. Jack's name sat in pretty font under the article title, and Caleb had mentions as the photographer under each of the pictures. The biggest one was in the middle, a full size photo of the panel with each team member attentive and ready to answer questions. All except Gavin and Michael, who were looking at each other. The photo must have been taken when Michael was trying to encourage Gavin to answer questions. Michael could even see his arm reaching for Gavin's leg under the table, when he had squeezed it to try and reassure him.

A second article to the right caught his eye. He recognized the author's photo clipped next to the beginning of the article. Adam Ellis, the man who made the comment about Gavin being like a toy. Not that every other reporter besides Jack didn't do similar, but seeing a reminder of the careless comment sent a shot of residual anger down Michael's spine.

What disturbed him more, though, was the title of the article.

 _Forbidden Romance: An Affair of Robot and Creator_ , followed by a picture of Michael leaning close to Gavin at the panel table, one of the moments where he whispered to him and tried to smile, working desperately to make Gavin feel better after Michael said the wrong thing and Gavin pushed him away. Zoomed in, accompanied by that title, it was all too easy to misinterpret.

“What the fuck?!” Michael spat, shaking the newspaper violently enough to tear it at the center crease. “Who the fuck said they could write this-- this bullshit?”

Geoff startled, turning from where he was setting down his things on the counter against the wall. Ray jumped too, and spun around in his chair. Michael glared at them both, paper clenched in his fist. Geoff looked between his face and the paper and understanding dawned on him. He moved to take it away. Michael jerked back, keeping the paper from Geoff. “Seriously, whose idea was this?”

“Probably the newspaper editor's,” Geoff said flatly. “It's not a big deal, Michael.”

“Romance? _Affair?_ They're accusing me of dating a robot? Bullshit!” he spat again, the words like fire and acid in his throat. As if he could treat Gavin that way, as if he could think that. “This isn't news, this is gossip magazine trash!”

The commotion quickly drew attention from the office on the other side of the room. The door opened and Griffon and Gavin came out, Griffon hurrying to put away what Michael would later identify as a welding torch that should not be turned on anywhere near Gavin, but right now he was too focused on the cocky prick of a reporter that thought he could speculate about his and Gavin's relationship.

“Michael, what's wrong?” Gavin's attention was on him immediately, and he walked over and put a hand on Michael's shoulder. Michael stayed put, though he kept a firm grip on the paper. He opened his mouth, but the words didn't come, and he kept staring at the paper.

Gavin peered over his arm to look. “Oh, is that what they wrote about us?” He looked over the main article, smiling a bit, before his eyes went to the next page. He quirked his head at the picture, and the words printed boldly above it. “Affair?” he asked, putting a hand to the page to trace the word. “They think we're in a romantic relationship?”

“Fucking ridiculous,” Michael said, finding his voice again. “As if I could date a robot.”

Gavin looked up, sharp and severe. Michael flinched under his look, quickly correcting himself. “I wouldn't date one of my friends, that's just weird.”

But the hurt was still there, and Gavin stepped back, closer to Griffon. God damn it, did Gavin get mad at every insinuation about what he really was? Michael grit his teeth and tossed the paper to the floor, stalking close and pulling Gavin into an unwilling hug. Gavin jolted, but returned it, arms pressing softly on Michael's back. “I'm upset they made assumptions, that's all,” Michael said, and let go to look Gavin in the eyes. “It's an insult to _both_ of us to lie about what's really going on.”

“To be fair,” Geoff said, picking up the newspaper. “He never actually said you guys were dating. He implied a hell of a lot, but he had the decency not to lie.”

Michael scoffed. “As if reporters aren't trained at that kind of stuff. Just because he can't be sued for what he said doesn't mean he doesn't want everyone reading it to think Gavin and I have some kind of sci fi romance.” His mouth set in a determined line. “I'm calling Jack to tell him to give that guy a piece of my mind.”

“Bad idea,” Geoff said. “Look, it's gossip. Everyone will forget in a little while.”

Michael tried to glare, but he no longer had the energy. He deflated and sighed. “Whatever.”

With the tension dispersed as best as it could be, Geoff resumed putting his belongings away and going to Griffon, whispering something to her that Michael could only assume was about work. They went to their office together, Griffon tucked under Geoff's arm. Gavin looked after them both, and glanced at Michael. He nodded, and Gavin smiled gently, following the pair to the tiny room that shouldn't be big enough for three of them, but somehow was. Michael took a spot at the counter, leaning his hips on it with arms crossed and fingers tapping his sleeve. The title of the article swirled around his mind, bouncing back and forth and focusing on that one word. Romance.

“Ray,” he said, barely loud enough to be heard. Ray, who had tried to get back to his work, turned slowly and blinked at him. Michael licked his lips. “Can the AI develop emotions?”

Michael wasn't being subtle at all, and Ray seemed to pick up on it, huffing out a long breath. He looked briefly at Geoff and Griffon's door, thumbs twiddling. It was a long moment of silence that Ray filled with little breaths and noises that sounded like the starts of words, and Michael stared at the floor, determined not to interrupt.

“Artificial Intelligence,” Ray started, “is tricky. People want to like things that act like people. And AI are designed to act like people.” He turned his gaze up at Michael from his chair. “But real emotions? Those are a chemical reaction, a reflex from your body to certain stimuli. It's a part of evolution, to feel happy when you're safe and unhappy when you aren't. Most emotions are a branch off those two bases. AI can seem a hell of a lot like they're happy or sad, Michael, but . . . I wouldn't say they have their own emotions. Gavin is programmed to mimic the people around him. I'm kinda surprised he doesn't act more surly or swear more, considering how much time he spends around you.”

Michael clenched his fingers around his own arm. It was the answer he expected, but not the one he wanted to hear. “I get that,” he said, to occupy the silence.

Ray kept staring at him, and shrugged with an air of finality. “I can't tell you much else, dude. Gavin hasn't been awake that long. We can wait and see what happens with him.”

“It won't be the same, though.” Michael nodded, agreeing with the unspoken statement implied there. Gavin was an AI, not human. Anything he displayed was a reaction of his programming and his learning system. Even his desire to not be treated like a robot probably stemmed from everyone else _not_ being called a robot. He wanted to be treated like them. Like Michael.

“I'm going to finish my work,” Michael said, walking quickly across the room. “When Ryan gets here, tell him to come in the office. I have stuff to ask him.”

There was no response from Ray. Michael kept walking, until he was in the engineering room and he could slam the door shut, silencing the rest of the lab as best he could while he sat down to keep playing with his computer.

The pliers almost sliced his finger open when he got them out of his pocket.

* * *

A month later, the real shitstorm started.

After revealing Gavin to the public and losing the immediate pressure to fix everything and anything wrong with him, Michael returned to working part time for the other departments. He stayed in the lab three days a week, to improve old systems with Ryan or talking to Ray about Gavin's behavior, each of them slowly progressing into new work. With Gavin built and relatively functioning, the task now was to determine how he could be improved. None of the changes would necessarily go into Gavin, but part of building him was seeing what worked and what didn't, and fixing the problem areas at least theoretically to assure future projects wouldn't be affected the same way. Gavin listened and held still and did his best to help when he wasn't off in Geoff and Griffon's office with whatever secret project he wouldn't tell Michael about. Michael caught Griffon with a welder a few more times and scolded her. She waved her hand every time and told him she wasn't letting Gavin anywhere near it. Michael scoffed and said just being in the same tiny office with it was too close, but Gavin insisted it was important, and Michael left it alone.

When he wasn't in the lab, Michael was elsewhere, tapping into the resources of the other departments and helping them with what they asked of him. Sometimes he did menial work and took down information, sometimes there was a genuine opportunity for work with robotics that Michael took as seriously as he took Gavin. More often than not, he sat on the sidelines while the main stars of a project fiddled with experiments and numbers, only calling him over when they had no other choice. It was hardly glamorous, and Michael would rather spend the extra time fiddling with Gavin's blueprints, but it was difficult to occupy forty hours a week doing that without wanting to blow his brains out, and he was glad for the breaks.

At home, he learned to be more careful with his language. He stopped using the words robot and android, instead referring to Gavin only by name and avoiding talking about him to himself except in his own head. After a year of work, it was hard to shake the terminology he'd stuck with, but seeing Gavin upset or angry with him was harder. And it really fucking sucked when the only other person you lived with wouldn't talk to you.

In the wake of being friendlier and dropping the words he didn't like, Gavin sidled back up to Michael like he had in the early days, probably even more friendly, though Michael had a hard time gauging it between bouts of chastising Gavin and beating his silicone ass in video games. The worst crime was when Gavin saw fit to tread where he wasn't supposed to be, and in Michael's apartment the primary place for that was the kitchen.

“Again?” Michael groused, glaring into the tiny space that threatened so much danger.

Gavin had his hand clutched to his chest, giving him a lopsided smile. “I didn't hurt myself, it's fine, Michael. And you get coffee now!”

Coffee. Debatable. Michael eyed the pot suspiciously, and looked back to Gavin's hand. “You almost burned yourself pouring it again.”

“Well, all right, coffee pot's heavy, not like an Xbox controller. Doesn't mean I can't make a nice cup in the mornings, yeah?”

Michael pointed to the carpeted area that connected the kitchen and living room, the wide space of floor that tapered into his bedroom hall. “Out.”

“Michael--”

“ _ Out _ ,” he ordered, keeping his finger up and pointed until Gavin pouted and slumped away, trailing into the living room to mope on the couch. Michael sighed and grabbed the pot, sniffing at it. He knew he would throw it out. He always did. But it didn't kill him to try some of it, and he begrudgingly took the cup Gavin had put out for him, sipping cautiously. 

It hit his tongue like dry raisins, and he coughed, sputtering as he set the mug back down. “How is liquid like a fucking desert?” he muttered, and called toward the kitchen, “Too dry, however the fuck you managed to do that!” Last he checked, dry was a term for lattes only, not home made coffee an hour before work.

“Okay!” Gavin yelled back, no longer sullen about being sent off. Michael sighed and wiped his mouth, dumping the coffee from the pot to make a bearable brew before it got so late that he had to rush. Making two pots of coffee every other morning was a huge waste, but it wasn't like the grounds he used were expensive or special, and Gavin liked trying to please him. Without taste buds, he had no way of testing his own work, and still he insisted. Michael couldn't take another cup of awful after the first butchered attempt, and spent several minutes the second time around educating Gavin loudly on why making coffee wasn't as simple as slapping the grounds in the pot (even though instant coffee  _ should _ be that easy, but somehow Gavin fucked it up). 

They said goodbye when they got to the lab. Michael had work to do in the engineering department, an area he felt separated from since they started Gavin, but with whom he had been working with and learning from a lot recently, and Gavin had to stay in the lab to avoid distracting Michael from any work not directly related to him. Or rather, to not distract the other engineers, who snuck into the team's lab to get a look at Gavin any time they could, after reading the articles.

They parted at the door with a quiet wave, as they did whenever Michael had work outside the team lab. Hel hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder. “Bye, Gav,” he said, smiling.

“Bye, Michael!” Gavin leaned on the doorway, ready to watch Michael walk away as he did every time. At first he claimed it was to observe how Michael walked, to try and get a handle on human movement, but Michael popped that bubble by pointing out the fact Gavin saw everyone on the team moving around the lab all day. Gavin shrugged and didn't give him another answer, ducking his head sheepishly, and Michael didn't press. Now, he asked, “You'll take me home, yeah?”  
“Like I always do.” Michael shook his head slightly at the redundancy of Gavin's questions, though he never failed to reassure him. “Are you still working on that secret thing?”

“Maybe.” Gavin gave him a coy smirk. “Won't be long until I finish it.”

“Awesome. I gotta go, see you.” Michael waved one last time, and turned down the hallway. Gavin yelled something indistinct at the curtness, but Michael spun back and stuck his tongue out, and Gavin grinned, so he knew they were fine.

Michael didn't have an office in the engineering department. It consisted of several classrooms and a lecture hall, as well as labs in the back of the hallway. The labs were the biggest aside from the lecture halls, with large equipment and numerous work tables. Researchers and professors ran back and forth, running menial tests or scribbling on paper. If there weren't classes to teach, the labs would be impossibly crowded all the time, and Michael almost wished he had a teaching degree for the sake of pulling an empty classroom away for his own purposes. Anyone caught using them without permission got scolded, as Michael found in his second month in Texas. One of the senior researchers found him and told him, three times, that only professors could designate times for classroom use and that Michael had to ask before taking a space. Michael thought it well used since no one else was in there, and hadn't been all morning, but he listened and respected the rules, to a point. On busy days he would still occasionally steal a room.

A few of the engineers looked up when he came in, jeering at him. “Hey, robot boy!” and “How's our local celebrity?” Some of it was positive and in jest, but a few comments came from older professors and men who thought years equaled wisdom and that Michael was too young to be working with Gavin. Granted, Ryan helped him with a lot, and Michael had a short sightedness that failed him more than once, but he worked his ass off in school to get where he was, and he wasn't about to let a boy's club knock him down.

He settled at a work station in the back corner, flicking on his laptop rather than take the desktop available to him. The computers in the team lab were filled to the brim with information about Gavin, more information than could be kept on Michael's personal computer. His other work, though, didn't take up nearly as much space, and anything too big he was willing to put in a cloud server online. No fucking way he trusted Gavin's information online; the rest of the university work wasn't nearly as revolutionary.

He spent about thirty minutes on serious tasks before he caved to the seemingly universal need to frequently check email, and when he did, Michael's eyebrows rose. In his inbox, innocent as you please, sat a message from the dean himself. Not the office of the dean or the receptionist's email, but Joel Heyman's personal account. He had given it to Geoff during his early years at the school, and Geoff felt it necessary to share with the team when they went out drinking one night, shortly after Joel assigned them Gavin and Geoff went spouting on about how great Joel was to give them this project and how they should all thank him personally. Most of the team didn't keep the address, hastily scrawled on napkins seven times over, but Michael pocketed it and put it in his contact list for emergency purposes, or to yell at Joel when and if he decided to quit.

Which made it an extreme surprise, for Michael to be getting a message from Joel, rather than the other way around. Michael's email was on file. No doubt Melissa dug it out for him. He stared a minute, at the subject line with only the words  _ Hello Michael. _ He hovered the mouse over it a moment, and clicked.

The email was barely longer than the subject, asking Michael to come meet Joel at his office. He frowned, clicking around the screen to be sure the rest of the message hadn't been hidden. No, Joel wanted him to stop by, and didn't say anything about what exactly he wanted from him. That didn't bode well.

The smell of freshly printed paper permeated the office when Michael walked in ten minutes later, and Melissa smiled at him. “Hi,” she said, unsurprised by his presence as she dealt with a stack of papers as thick as a textbook. “Mr. Heyman in his office, you can go right in.”

Michael nodded, glancing sympathetically at the pile she was wrangling, and stepped around her desk to Joel's door. He opened it slowly, peeking in and catching sight of Joel. Assured he hadn't snuck out somewhere without Melissa knowing, Michael stepped in fully and shut the door behind him, waiting to be acknowledged.

Joel looked up, glasses slipping down his nose. “Ah, Michael, glad you got my message. Have a seat.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk, pushing out the papers in front of him into a pile he wouldn't have to deal with for the time being. Joel tucked his glasses in a case by the phone and waited until Michael has situated himself to speak again. “How are you this morning?”

“Busy,” Michael said, tugging at his sleeves. The fabric of the chair caught his sweater and pulled them back, and he fussed with the fabric without quite meeting Joel's eye. “Any reason you emailed instead of just coming down to the lab? Or calling my cell?” That would have disturbed Michael further, to be honest, but sitting with only Joel in this tiny office and not knowing the reason made him itch and squirm, like his clothes were a pinch too tight. He yanked his sleeves forward again. “Is this about Gavin?”

Since the school revealed Gavin publicly, and several articles followed in the local papers and news channels for weeks after, Joel had done any and everything he could to spread the word. He visited the lab more than once to look at Gavin, though he spared less than three words with the android in all that time, and pestered Ryan and Geoff endlessly about what they were working on. Surprisingly, he left Gus and Griffon alone, likely due to the looks they shot him when he got too much in their space, and Ray and Michael were the designated youngsters, too inexperienced to be bothered with Joel's curiosities. Part of Michael thanked the universe for Joel's sense of value, age above skill, but he did get a twinge of jealousy whenever the dean waltzed in and swung an arm around Ryan, asking about the latest tests they had done. Michael lived with Gavin and he knew him best, yet Joel never uttered a word to him beyond hello.

Which begged the question of why it was Michael sitting in the chair now. Joel's visits were few and far between and he made it obvious that Michael wasn't worth what little time he spent with the robotics team. He asked again, “Is something the matter?”

Joel leaned back and hummed to himself, taking his time with an answer. He looked Michael over like a judge, assessing him from head to toe. Michael felt the stirrings of anger boiling in him. If Joel didn't get on with it and tell him what the fuck he wanted in the next ten seconds--

“Yes, it's about the robot,” Joel finally said, sitting straight again. “How is he?”

“ _Gavin_ ,” Michael said, “is fine. He still lives with me and we've been working to test how he functions in society and how well he's learning human culture based on his interactions.”

Joel's tongue darted out, wetting his lower lip. “And does he work?”

Michael took a moment to blink. “That's a pretty broad word, but if you mean does he function regularly and are his systems consistently capable of adapting to human life, then yes, he works. He's better about living like people every day.” The full extent of that, Michael would never tell Joel, or anyone in the lab. He answered when Ryan and Ray asked him, but their questions were so focused on basic functions that they didn't know that Gavin liked to read, or that he had started using Michael's Twitter to learn what famous people talked about, or that he asked again and again for them to record their gaming sessions with Michael's shitty camera so he could watch them back and giggle late at night when they weren't doing anything else. The more Gavin learned about humans, the more he wanted to be like them, and it amazed Michael to see the differences.

But if he wasn't giving the details to his coworkers, he sure as hell wouldn't tell Joel any of that.

“Great, great,” Joel said, snapping Michael from his daydream with a wave of the hand. “I'm glad we've got that all out of the way, but listen. The stories about the robot are all dying down. You know how it is, people get obsessed with shiny things and move on when it stops sparkling. The robot isn't going to stay in the lab forever, eventually we have to do something else with him.”

Michael tensed, teeth clacking in his mouth.

“Our plan for the robot was to eventually have him working somewhere in the university, somewhere safe where he wouldn't be hurt, but he could still answer to news agents if they wanted to come and look at him, or talk to prospective students of the science departments. Publicity, you know? But without the risk of him getting crushed in a machine or something. We wanted to give him an easy job.”

Michael swallowed thickly, sensing where this was going and not liking it. “Okay?”

“I'll be honest,” Joel said, drawling the words out in a long, apologetic tone. He bent down below his desk, snatching something and laying it between the,. Michael glanced down, and back up. The title of the newspaper article staring back at him was all too familiar, though Michael hadn't looked at it since Geoff threw it at him a month prior. It stayed on his mind, though, because hallways were a great place to eavesdrop on whispers and none of his coworkers outside the team had the decency to wait until he wasn't around. “I've heard the rumors,” Joel continued, tapping the newspaper. “That you and the robot are a little too close.”

“It's not like that,” Michael said, so fast and sure that Joel raised an eyebrow. “We live together, all right? We were bound to get close. We're friends. I mean--” Michael stopped and started at the confused look Joel shot him. Shit, he was going to be fired. “He says he's friends with me,” he clarified, “and I thought it would be good for the AI to keep thinking that, to learn about human interaction. It doesn't hurt anybody.”

Joel flashed a predator's grin. “And yet, these rumors are the only thing I hear people talking about lately.”

Flushing red, Michael looked down and away. He could hardly be blamed for that. Gavin insisted on physical touch, hugging Michael and putting his arms around him. When the team started going out together for lunch, relaxed now that the hard part of the project was done, they were more than eager to bring Gavin along. Joel encouraged it, too. Geoff asked him the first time they considered it, calling the main office because he was too lazy to leave the lab. The shouts on the other end could be heard by everyone else through the phone's speaker, they were so loud. Joel wanted people to know about Gavin, to talk about him. They didn't do it often, to be safe, but when several team members went out, they always invited Gavin, who always invited Michael. He had to say yes, even if he was working, and suffered through being pecked at by them as Gavin's pet. If the hugs and cooing went on too long, he snapped at Gavin to cut it the fuck out, but it didn't stop people in the restaurants and diners from seeing them.

Like Geoff had said, people like gossip, but he lied about them dropping the subject. Michael stopped looking at the papers he brought in after the first couple said more things about him and Gavin, sometimes with photos. He threw them out in the lab's recycling, but Geoff must have had multiple copies because he saw them hanging in their office. He kept them for the good things they would say about the team and the university, hiding any pages blatantly tooting about human and robot romance. Michael thanked him for that, at least, though he would rather the damn articles weren't around at all.

He met Joel's gaze again and sat up straighter. “They're just that, Joel. Rumors. Everyone will forget about it eventually. Besides, they're more focused on that fact that Austin has its own robot, now. We're on par with New York City and L.A.”

“True, but I'd rather the rumors stopped completely.”

Fuck, he wasn't dropping it. Michael bit his lip, and released it quickly when Joel darted a glance. “All right, so what is this about? We can stop going out in public if you want.”

“No, no, no,” Joel hurried to say, waving a hand at him. “No, I _like_ having the robot--”

“Gavin--”

“I like having the robot in public. It's good for us, like you said. What I don't like is you two being so close that people think we're running some sort of cheesy sci fi soap opera outfit. It's unprofessional, Michael.”

The way he said his name made Michael's toes curl. “So?”

“So,” Joel drawled, “I think it's high time we moved Gavin to the lab. Permanently.”

Something in the pit of Michael's stomach dropped. Possibly his sanity. He paled, mouth agape. His breathing got so shallow he almost forgot to do it at all, and had to force himself to suck in a breath. Joel sat idly by, waiting. “Move him?” Michael managed, voice significantly higher. “To the lab?”

“Yes.” Joel swiped his glasses from the case and slipped them on, a sure sign he was done with the conversation. “He's too chummy with you, and he's learned enough about being social. You said it yourself, he considers you a friend. Clearly the AI knows enough about being around people. We can afford to keep him here on a permanent basis.”

Fists clenched and throat tight, Michael said, “There'd be no point to that.”

“Oh, but there is! If Gavin is here all the time, we can give him the job we planned on. Something clerical, maybe have him assist Melissa. She's always getting swamped, anyway. He'll be useful but still easily accessible if you or your buddies need him. And he doesn't sleep, so we can keep him on all the time. He'd have our file system sorted inside a month, I bet. Melissa's been trying to tame it for weeks.”

“But--” Michael halted, gathering enough ire to put a real threat in his tone, “But that isn't fair to him. Gavin doesn't want to work some desk job. Besides, we still have a lot to do with him.”

“I respect that. You can have him during the day until your little tests are done, and after that he'll have a permanent spot in my office. Simple.”

“No it fucking isn't!” Michael's chair scrapped on the floor and fell over. He slammed his palms down in his rage. Pain radiated through the muscle, up his arms. Teeth bared, he glared at Joel. His glasses almost fell off his nose and he didn't care. “He's my friend!” Michael spat. “He deserves more than that! He cost over a million in grant money, and for what? A desk job? Bullshit!” Michael sucked in a sharp breath. He didn't stop long enough to let Joel get a word in. “Gavin can process as fast as any modern computer and he's learning more about people every fucking day. He's a goddamn miracle of science, a consciousness! We want him doing something fucking _important_ , not filing shit away in your tiny ass office!”

The words stung like venom in his mouth and Michael felt no better for saying them. Joel merely stared, waiting for him to stop. Michael matched his look. His shoulders were hitched up to his ears. His hands clenched at the top of the desk. He had nowhere to go and nothing else to say, not without telling Joel a truth he hadn't even accepted yet. “Gavin doesn't want a desk job,” he finished weakly, voice ragged. Joel kept staring, eyebrow raised.

“It's not about what the robot wants,” Joel said. “That grant money was for publicity, which he's getting. The last month's tours have been flooded with questions about him, according the to surveys from student tour guides. He's getting the attention we wanted and the university is going to boom because of it. That's what we wanted.”

Hackles raised, Michael said, “Does science matter to you _at all?_ Was this all for the fucking money?”

“Kind of.” Joel smiled. “Don't get me wrong, I like science, too. But have you seen what happened to the other robots that have been produced? They're like fucking money vacuums. Companies all over are tripping themselves to get a hold of one that can fill job spaces and, you know, there's that sci fi factor. People like new toys.”

Never had Michael had to fight harder to resist the urge to punch someone.

“Michael, let me tell you something.” Joel sat up straighter, leveling his gaze. His eyes narrowed, face tensing. “Where do you think that money came from? Do you know who gave most of it to us? Sure, some of it came from those pompous entrepreneurs who like to toss their inheritance around for good causes. But most of it came from a friend of mine. Matt Hullum.”

That made Michael pause, turning up from where he'd been staring at the wood of Joel's desk and wishing he had a lighter. Joel smirked at his expression. “Yes, that's right. Matt and I were very close in college. He's worth a lot now, but I guess that's what comes from owning one of the biggest distributors of computers and parts in the country. He was the one who suggested I take on a project with a robot in the first place, and he funded almost the entire thing. Matt Hullum is the reason the robot, your 'Gavin,' exists.”

Michael tore his eyes away. He couldn't take the smugness leaking from Joel's smile.

“So ex-fucking-scuse me,” Joel continued, “if I do whatever the hell I please with him, because without my connections to Matt, you would still be out looking for a job and not playing around with your favorite toy. I hired you to build me a robot because you showed skill and potential, and Ryan stuck up for you. You want to keep him? Fine, you can, for a while. Eventually, though, he's going to work for the university, even if we have to rewire his hard drive to make him do it. I don't wanna hear lip from you when that happens.” Joel sat back, relaxing in his soft leather chair. “Understood?”

If Michael had bothered to give an answer, the slam of the door and the vibrations of the frame shaking in the wall would have covered it. But Michael wouldn't dignify that look with any kind of answer, and hurried out without so much as looking at Joel again. He stomped past Melissa and slammed the outer office door, too. Students and professors turned as he passed, storming down the hall. His fists clenched and he could swear his teeth would need dental repair with the force with which he ground them together. No, not this bullshit, not today, not ever.

Silence permeated the lab, each person on the team absorbed in their own work. That is, until Michael walked in. He thrust the door open hard enough for it to smash into the wall. The noise made Ray jump and Gus look up from his papers. Ryan peeked out from the engineering office a moment later, looking concerned. Michael bit his lip, shame running through him, but the residual anger was enough for him to remember not to care.

Soon after Gavin came out and saw him, brow furrowed with concern. “Michael?”

He softened, and tensed again. The dean wanted Gavin, his Gavin, to work in some dingy office all day and spend the nights at the school with no one to keep him company. He wouldn't let that happen. Michael didn't answer, frowning at the floor.

Gavin walked up to him, tucking something in his pocket that Michael couldn't see. Geoff and Griffon were close behind, hovering nearby and watching Michael. He ignored them, looking up when Gavin reached him. “Are you all right?”

“No,” Michael said, fast. “No, I'm not.”

“Did something happen?” Ray leaned in his chair, bouncing the back to and fro with one arm slung over it. “You're white as a sheet, man.”

Michael felt his face, how cold it was. He hadn't had time to notice, stomping his way down here. If anything, he thought he would be flushed red with rage. He shook his head and pulled his hand away. “The dean spoke to me,” he said. “It didn't go well.”

He would have said more, but he didn't have a chance, arms suddenly wrapped tight around his shoulders. Michael made a soft noise and glared at Gavin, who gripped him tight and buried his face against his shoulder. “Humans like hugs, right?” Gavin's voice was soft, and he peeked up from Michael's shirt. “Does this help?”

God fucking damn it, Gavin was too good for this. For Michael, and the lab, and even the fucking school. He might be an annoying little shit who gloated whenever he beat Michael at games and decided it was okay to coo at him like he was four whenever they spent time with the rest of the team, but Gavin was kind and he was his friend and he couldn't work in the university, he just couldn't, it wasn't what he was meant for.

He put an arm on Gavin, if only to quell him for the time being while he thought. “Thanks,” Michael mumbled. Satisfied, Gavin buried his head again and squeezed tighter. Something heavy jangled in the pockets of his shorts, bumping Michael's leg. He briefly thought to ask what it was, and shut his mouth. If the welding torches and scrap metal he'd seen in the Ramsey office were any indication, whatever Gavin had been working on was made of bits and pieces from around the lab. Sensible, since Gavin couldn't go out shopping without Michael, and hadn't bothered to ask anyone else to take him. If he was still keeping it a secret, Michael didn't want to know about it yet.

“So what actually happened?” Ryan spoke this time, resting in the doorway to his and Michael's room. He had his iPhone dangling off his fingers, barely held between the pointer and thumb, and Michael vaguely recalled him saying something about testing how Gavin interacted with other technology. Michael's insistence that he played video games and used Michael's video camera were little proof unless they had lab observations to back it up.

“Joel is a fucking idiot,” Michael mumbled, pushing Gavin gently off him to properly face Ryan. “Can we talk about this privately?”

“Sure.” Ryan looked at Gavin. “Just the two of us?”

Michael shot Gavin an apologetic look. “Yeah, just us.”

Gavin frowned, but didn't say anything.

Inside his office, Michael relaxed into a chair, letting gravity carry his weight down until he thumped on the cushion. Ryan returned to his seat at the computer, playing with his phone idly until Michael said something. A long few minutes passed. Michael sought the proper words to summarize exactly how stupid Joel was, finding nothing. He would have to wing it.

“Gavin can't stay with me forever, can he?”

The question surprised Ryan, who pursed his lips as he shut down whatever game he'd had open. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly that,” Michael said with a harsher tone than he meant. Correcting himself, he said, “Gavin staying with me wasn't the original plan. It was just what was convenient at the time, and it worked out. But I'm guessing that it won't stay that way. Not when he's finished and everyone in town knows about him. I've had more than one knock on my door by strangers, you know.”

“Do you not want him?”

“Fuck no, I like him.” Michael tasted the fib on the edge of his tongue, and shoved it back. “To be honest, I like him a lot. Probably more than I should. We're-- he calls me his friend.” Michael risked a glance at Ryan. He hadn't told anyone in the lab how close he and Gavin were, how they acted more like human friends than anything else. Ryan didn't show any sign of caring about Michael's confession. “But,” he said, and sat up straighter, “I figured we might need a different set up, now that we don't work with him constantly and Joel's always coming in to show him off to people.”

“Not . . . really?” Ryan said the words slowly, feeling them out. “I mean, he likes it with you, obviously. He's always expressing happiness. And you bring him in here every day, even when you aren't working with us.” Ryan shot a meaningful look at the door. Michael winced. No doubt everyone in the engineering department had wondered where he went off to, the young prodigy gifted with the chance to work with their local robot. They would care less about it if they knew how badly Michael had been told off. “It's pretty convenient, to be honest,” Ryan said, slipping his phone in his pocket and sitting with both arms at his side, open to Michael. “What's the truth, Michael? What happened?”

Michael bit his lip and picked at a loose thread in his pants. Anger boiled back up under his skin at the thought of the pompous prick he had to call his boss. Gavin, working at a desk, as if he didn't squeal and jump every time a new machine in the lab lit up. As if he didn't hang off every person he met, Michael especially, reveling in the human contact. As if he didn't love playing pranks and watching their reactions, hitting his thigh in a very human reflex as his breathing system nearly choked on his laughter. Full of light, full of life.

He stamped a foot on the linoleum. “That asshole wants to take Gavin from us. To keep him here in the lab twenty four seven.”

“What?”

Michael sucked in a sharp breath, and launched into a brief explanation of what went down in the dean's office. He cleverly left out his emotional defense of Gavin and Joel's threats to his job, but Ryan got the gist of it, judging by how his lips slowly curled into a dissatisfied snarl. It didn't hold a candle to any expression Michael could make, but Ryan rarely, if ever, got upset. It made Michael pull back when he finished speaking, leaning away despite the good four feet of distance between their chairs. He hadn't seen a look like that from Ryan since he almost lost the blue prints for Gavin's metal skeleton in the early months.

“You're right, he's a dick,” Ryan muttered. Louder, “He can't force Gavin to be here all the time, it doesn't help his AI. Gus can attest to that, he has data. We'll talk to him, Michael.” He paused, tilting his head in consideration. “You didn't blow up at him, did you?”

“Not in so many words. I stormed out.”

“Hm. Better than screaming your head off, I guess.” Ryan pushed his chair back to get to the nearest computer and open the Internet browser. “I'll email Joel and ask him if we can discuss this. Don't worry about it, Michael, he's just a peacock fluffing his plumage. Another day or two and he'll probably forget about it.”

If Michael believed in a deity, he would pray to it that Ryan was right. He could keep his head better than anyone else in the lab, except maybe Ray, who cared so little that he bemoaned the simple effort of dredging up enough emotion to display anything other than apathy.

Assured that the situation was handled, and with less of a desire to punch something, Michael quickly thanked Ryan and left the room.

Gavin was still out there. He played with whatever was in his pocket over top his shorts, fingers pulling and pushing the fabric to jangle the object around. He'd been talking quietly with Ray, and went silent the second Michael stepped back in the main area. He got up and moved quickly, stopping short and hovering. Michael took a deep breath. “Hey, boy,” he said, and smiled. It was fake and uncomfortable, but he had to help Gavin. Heaven knew how he would react to being forcefully pulled from Michael's life. He protested the days at the lab without him as it was. He didn't return the smile, and Michael wondered when the AI had picked up on insincere emotions.

Letting his expression drop, Michael sighed again. “I'm fine,” he said. “Just a little issue with the dean of the school, that's all.”

“You looked pretty mad.”

“Yeah, well. I get mad. We got video proof of that.” His smile this time was a bit more genuine, and the corners of Gavin's mouth slipped up. “I gotta get back to work, but I'll pick you up at the end of the day, all right?”

“Yeah.” Gavin tugged his pocket again, the object within rising and dropping.

“Is that your secret thing?” Michael half reached for it, barely threatening.

Gavin screeched all the same. He jumped back and patted his pocket furiously. “Michael, no! It's not done yet!”

“Okay, okay, chill out, fuck.” Michael raised his hands. “I'll see you later, Gavin.”

Gavin smiled, relieved. “Bye, Michael.”

“Bye, Gavvers.” He raised a hand and pat Gavin's shoulder, squeezing. Gavin reached up and put his hand over top, keeping Michael there a moment, and let go. He stepped back and did a tiny wave, turning to go back in Geoff and Griffon's office. Michael waited for him to vanish behind the door, nodded at Ray, and left the lab, walking down to hall to the engineering department to pick up his work before he got yelled at by some stuffy pantsed, bald headed prick. All the way down, he brushed his thumb over his fingers, feeling the place where Gavin's artificially warm hand had been.

 


	11. Chapter 11

It's a rare day that Gavin is quiet when he isn't mad at Michael. Frankly, the habit puzzled him. Gavin learned human interaction from living with him, and he sure as hell wasn't quiet when he found a problem. He shouted about it until it got the right attention and somebody fucking fixed it. It might be another addition to his personality that Ray left in without mentioning, like Gavin's secret love of fantasy books after the first time he found Michael's stash of A Song of Ice and Fire hidden behind some of the games under the TV. Or maybe the pathfinding found the best solution for Gavin's problems to be when he left them alone. It had worked often enough, as other people deemed Gavin less capable and picked up his shit for him. Michael chalked it up to another one of those quirks.

So the silence that filled the car on the ride home surprised him. Gavin grinned and laughed with him when he spoke. He simply didn't offer anything to extend the conversation, staring out the window and fiddling with his pocket. Michael side eyed the pocket more than once. He had a feeling whatever had occupied Gavin so long, it was finished now, no matter what Gavin said in the lab. Something in his stomach dropped at the thought. He couldn't even tell Joel that Gavin was working on a personal project to keep him in the lab.

It would be a flimsy excuse anyway, but over the course of the day Michael had grasped at anything. He worked as diligently as he could while half his mind went over his options. They could always use more data about how Gavin interacted with people, but that would feed Joel's publicity hunger. They could say Gavin wasn't functional in some way, something about his nerves and circuits, but the team wouldn't go with the lie, even acknowledging Gavin's minor speech glitches that still happened when he got excited. They could claim staying in the university offices would depress him, which was as close as Michael had to something tangible. But Joel mentioned reprogramming Gavin, and Michael couldn't live with the idea that he might program the personality right out of him to stop anything like depression taking over the android.

Like an animal in a cage, Michael's mind was fighting for anything that could keep Gavin with him without threatening his safety.

Absorbed in himself as he was, the silence stopped bothering Michael halfway through the trip home. He kept his eyes on the road and stopped looking at Gavin fiddling with his pants until they pulled into his apartment complex. His concentration broke, the sight of a dozen people waiting by the front door sending him into his steering wheel with a groan. He barely missed hitting the horn with his forehead.

“Again?” Gavin said, leaning across to get a look at the crowd. “That's the fourth time in the last couple weeks. Can't you ask the landlord to keep them away?”

“If he cared, yeah,” Michael said, words muffled by plastic in his mouth. He spat the wheel from between his teeth and sat up, glaring at the reporters and the cacophony made by their simple presence in front of the complex. “He loves the news, thinks it's good business. As if. This place is a hole and I wanna get out as soon as I can, but all the places near campus are taken up by fucking students.”

“Mm.” Gavin hummed little noises, still playing with the object in his pocket. Michael had half a mind to tell him to take it out already, if he insisted on keeping it in his hand somehow, but yelling at Gavin would break the calm he seemed to have going, and it wouldn't help the people at his door. Michael tapped the steering wheel a few times, sighed, and opened the door. Gavin followed after a moment, keeping close to Michael as they walked up.

A brief glance had Michael clicking his tongue again. Among the people waiting for him was Jack, holding the notepad he loved and waving at them. The action got them noticed, though. Michael thrust a hand in front of Gavin, blocking him from the onslaught.

“Mr. Robot! Mr. Robot! Can we get a comment for out channel?”

“I'm going an article about you, I'd love to hear something!”

“Are the rumors about you true, Mr. Jones? Are you having an inappropriate relationship with a machine?”

“All right, all right!” Jack's voice rose above the rest. He shoved his way through and pushed several people back, putting himself between them and Michael and Gavin. “Get out of here, he's obviously not in the mood for commentary.”

A few people tried to push forward again. Michael snarled, “No fucking comment!” and grabbed Gavin's hand, worming around Jack to get to the door and swipe his tenant only access key. He hesitated, saw Jack behind him, and begrudgingly let him in. Once in the quiet halls of the building, he stopped, breathing hard.

“Sorry,” Jack said. “I came over to ask some questions and got followed. I swear these people have cameras all over, I never told anyone I would be here.”

“Except your editor, I bet,” Michael huffed, brushing imaginary dirt from his coat to keep his hands busy. “Look, it's been a long ass fucking day and I'm not really in the mood to be questioned by anybody. I don't know what you want from me but expect a boat load of nothing.”

“Oh, uh,” Jack licked his lips, a hand going to the back of his head. “I mean, it's wasn't much, I just wanted to ask how Gavin was doing.”

“Some other time,” Michael offered, torn by the look in Jack's eyes. “I can't today, dude, I can't. Too much for me.”

Jack glanced at the door, and back. “What if I come to the lab tomorrow?”

“If Geoff and Gus are cool with it, sure.” Michael shrugged, thinking of his couch and how much he wanted to get in his apartment and blast some idiots on Xbox Live apart while Gavin watched and giggled endlessly. “Sorry, dude.”

“No, no, I get it,” Jack assured him, waving a hand. “I didn't mean to bother you when your day already sucks. I thought we could go out for drinks or something.”

“Tomorrow, maybe,” Michael promised again, shuffling on the carpet.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Michael snapped, “but like I said, long day, I don't wanna talk about it.”

“That was mean,” Gavin said quietly from his spot beside Michael.

“It's fine,” Jack assured him. “I'll go, this was mostly on my way home anyhow. See you tomorrow, Michael, Gavin.”  
“Bye Jack!” Gavin waved at him happily, and Michael tried to mimic it, his hand limp and pathetic next to Gavin's enthusiasm. Jack waved at them both and left the lobby, swatting at the few reporters left who wanted inside. He shut the door before they could sneak in and flashed a final smile at the pair before going to his truck, hands in his pockets.

“You could have talked for a minute.”

“No.” Michael hurried up the stairs to his floor, doing his best not to berate himself. Jack was a big boy, he could handle being pushed off. Besides, what business did he have coming to Michael's apartment? He thought he could trust friends with his address, not come home to a crowd and have to deal with a dozen fucking people bothering him for the next hour until they got bored and went home. He slammed the door when Gavin stepped inside, kicking his shoes off violently and storming to the couch. “I need a nap,” he muttered, crashing belly first on the cushions.

Gavin stood beside him, rocking on his toes. It took a moment for Michael to realize he didn't have any other good places to sit in his shitty house, and pulled his legs up to free a space. Gavin bounced into it, snuggling down in the leather. He watched him, face visible in Michael's peripheral, but said nothing else. Michael half expected a lecture on how to treat guests and breathed a sigh of relief when it didn't come, hugging a pillow under his chest.

“Video games?” Gavin offered.

“Nah, think I'll make dinner and watch a movie,” Michael said, voice muffled in the cloth. “Unless you got something else in mind.”

“Well.” Gavin turned away, out of Michael's sight. “I thought you might wanna look at what I've been doing with Geoff and Griffon.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael perked up, glad for anything to distract him from the stab he got in his stomach every time he looked at Gavin and saw Joel's smug grin. “What the fuck is it, then?” he asked, sitting up to look at Gavin properly.

Gavin had turned away, staring at the wall and playing with his pocket again. “Nothing, really, just a thing. I thought you might like it.”

“Is it a present?”

“Something like that.” Gavin's voice was low, and he finally reached in his pocket, hand curling around whatever was in there. Michael waited, watched him keep his hand hidden for a few minutes, before Gavin got a big smile on his face and pulled out what he hand, hand open and fingers splayed to show off the tiny object in his palm.

For a month long project, he thought Gavin would be making something much bigger, especially with all the fuss he made, shutting Michael out of the Ramsey office and flailing each time he came in when Gavin wasn't expecting it. He also heard the blow torch in their more than once and, despite going off on a tangent to Geoff about how he should definitely not be doing that near Gavin, felt a little thrill of curiosity at what exactly Gavin could be making.

Seeing the result, mild disappointment and the urge to burst out laughing fought in him, laughter winning after a moment. “Oh, my fucking god,” he said. His face split in a grin, and he snorted a couples times until it developed into a full blown guffaw. Michael hid it as best he could behind his hand, to stop from hurting Gavin's feelings. He didn't mean to laugh, really, but how could he not?

A tiny, metal heart sat in the palm of Gavin's hand. It was flat, about a half inch tall, made of a metal border with gears and cogs in the middle. It was obviously crafted from the scrap metal Griffon kept around. She tossed the pieces in a box every time they finished building something. The parts shone differently under the light, some silver and bright and others gray and dull. On the side was a little switch, a turner meant to move the gears, like the crown of a stopwatch. Michael couldn't focus on any one part for long, too taken in by the cordiform metal. Of anything, Gavin chose a heart. It couldn't possibly get cheesier than that, and the titles of all the articles describing their imaginary torrid love affair got all the more ironic in that moment. Michael snickered and gulped, getting his air back and wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth.

Gavin reeled back in wake of his laughter, frowning, and tucked his hands into a chest. “Fine, if you don't like it--”

“No, no, Gavin, hold on.” Michael scrambled to take Gavin's hands, pulling them back and opening his fingers. The heart, he noticed now, had a thin layer of reinforced plastic on the surface, protecting the tiny parts within. “It's fucking cheesy and not what I expected, but,” he let out another small laugh, “it's, it's great, Gavin, I love it.” Michael paused, meeting Gavin's eyes. “Is it meant for me?”

Gavin stopped in his struggle to get his hands back and let them rest, open on top of Michael's palms. He pursed his lips. “Geoff suggested I make it,” he said, instead of answering. “I wanted something to do to-- prove something.” The last words were mumbled, and Gavin ducked his head. He let the heart drop into Michael's hands and put his own on the couch, rubbing the cushions. “It's for you,” he added, when Michael didn't speak.

Michael snorted. “Geoff, the romantic bastard,” he muttered, going quiet as Gavin fidgeted. “And what, exactly, did you mean to prove?”

“That . . .” Gavin bit his lip gently. “That I have emotions!”

The outburst made Michael jump, leaning back against the arm of the couch, hands clutched to his chest. The heart jostled within them and he glanced down, but it hadn't fallen apart. Griffon's welding around the edges ensured it was as sturdy as Gavin himself. Michael placed it on the coffee table, metal clinking on the wood surface, and raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

Gavin had looked away again, this time keeping his hands under his thighs, sitting on them to stop mindless fidgeting. “You kept calling me an AI,” he said slowly, feeling around the words. “And those reporters from that meeting ignored me. I asked Geoff why and he said-- he said that people don't trust things that don't have emotions.”

“I said I'd be better about it,” Michael protested, but Gavin untucked a hand from underneath him to put it up, stopping Michael before he said anything else.

“Yeah,” Gavin said, and smiled. “I'm glad you did. I like being friends, Michael. It still felt weird, though. You kept going to work with other people and you never called me your friend in front of everyone else. I asked Geoff if there was something I could do, to make me more like you guys, so I could hang out and have fun. And he said I needed a heart, because I don't have one.”

Geoff, the romantic, _manipulative_ bastard. Michael clicked his tongue. He didn't say anything about the rumors from day one, and now he was having Gavin give him possibly the most romantic thing he'd gotten since his last girlfriend in high school insisted on gifts every Valentine's Day. Motherfucker. Where did he get the right?

“You don't need a heart,” Michael said, and laughed again at the petulant look Gavin shot him. “Emotions come from the brain, dude,” he continued, bringing a hand up to poke Gavin's forehead. “You most certainly have one of those. Hearts are just for pumping blood, they don't actually have any emotional involvement. Humans are weird with symbolism like that.”

Gavin batted his hand away, but held onto it, his fingers curling around Michael's and bringing it to his lap. Michael let him keep hold, smiling when his thumb brushed over the skin on the back. “So I do have emotions?” Gavin asked.

“Yeah.” Michael shifted closer and put his free hand on Gavin's knee. “Sorry I don't act the same way with you in front of everybody else. It's different, you know? I'm not used to having a robot for a best friend. But it doesn't mean you aren't special, and you have plenty of emotion for the both of us.” His lips quirked up. “Besides, we take you out all the time now. Since when don't we treat you like one of us?”

Gavin leaned forward and pressed his face into Michael's neck. “Since you don't act nice when we go out. You yell at everybody when I try to joke with you. Not the same as here.”

Ah, fuck. He'd been a bastard again without realizing. Michael resisted the urge to jump away and leaned his head on Gavin's, taking in the smell of his synthetic hair. Maybe it was his nature, to hide his emotions until they were alone and he could rest assured that no one would accuse him of perversion and being asocial, to be this close with something not human. Tolerating Gavin's behavior at the lab and reluctantly agreeing to lunch outings didn't cut it, so much so that Gavin made his own fake heart to prove he was as human as the rest of them, as deserving of love and affection.

God, he was a piece of shit.

“I'm sorry,” Michael said into his hair. “I'll treat you better, I promise.”

“You treat me fine,” Gavin mumbled. His nose pushed on his neck, light breaths puffing down Michael's throat. “Feeling left out of the shenanigans, that's all. And hey.” Gavin leaned back and beamed. “Now I have a heart, just like you. It even ticks.”

“What, really?” Michael snatched the tiny heart again, turning it until he saw the switch at the side. “Oh, yeah, this thing. I can turn it?”

“Go ahead. It's why the damn thing took so long.”

Michael kept his eyes on his hands as he delicately twisted the dial, feeling the clicks as the gears pulled back, watching through plastic the tiny movements. The amount of precision required to build something like this told him enough about why Gavin hid in Geoff and Griffon's office. No way he made it entirely by himself. Still. It was a heart, meant for him. Michael couldn't help the smile and giggle he let out when he let go of the dial and the heart moved on its own. Tiny cogs spun and pushed the gears, a rhythm of ticks ringing through its surface with no other purpose than to look good and ring pleasantly in his ears. It didn't keep time, but Michael had a feeling he would be winding it often just to watch how it moved.

He could feel Gavin sit back beside him, closer than before. His face leaned near Michael, breathing on his cheek, long enough to see the heart moving, until he sat back again with a tiny sigh. Michael tilted the heart back and forth in his hands, watching the turn of gears slow and speed with gravity, too absorbed to really notice Gavin.

“Griffon let me read her novels,” he said suddenly, breaking Michael's trance.

“Hm?” Michael put the heart down in his lap, tilting his head back to look at Gavin.

“When she was doing the parts of the heart I couldn't manage,” Gavin explained. “She has a bunch of romance novels at her desk and let me read some of them.”

Michael made a face. “Ugh, I remember the day she started bringing those in. She said she needed something to do while Ryan and I fucked around with machines.” Working on building Gavin required supervision for Griffon's complicated designs, and she insisted on sitting by the table in the main area while they and Geoff managed the blow torches and blueprints. She would perch in a chair with one of her books and turn the pages idly, seemingly absorbed, until Geoff attached a part too hastily or Michael read a direction wrong. Then like the devil sensing a flaw in God's work, she shut the book and rushed to correct them, grabbing tools and butting her way in. Michael learned to shiver when she got the books out, because it meant a kind of focused distraction that only Griffon was capable of. “Why'd you read them? They're boring as shit.”

“Not all of them,” Gavin said, voice pitched higher. “Some of them were good.” He turned to stare at the ceiling, head laid on the back of the couch. Michael sat back with him, hands back to playing with the heart. He watched Gavin in his silence, turning the dial again when the ticking of the heart stopped. The tiny clicks and whirrs filled the apartment while Gavin stared and contemplated whatever plagued his AI. “Hearts were important,” Gavin said. “No one talked about brains when they mentioned emotions. They always said stuff like their heart hurt.”

Michael shrugged. “Like I said, humans are weird and symbolic. There's some old reason the heart is connected with emotions but hell if I remember.”

Gavin paused again, lips in a thin line. “There was a lot of kissing,” he whispered.

It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in, Michael barely catching them as he played with his new toy. His hands stopped, and he turned, mouth open. “Um.” Michael swallowed, and looked away quickly. “Okay? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Humans were obsessed over it,” Gavin said, sitting up now to face Michael, even as Michael refused to look at him and instead stared at the heart in his lap. “All the women would talk about was kissing and if it meant anything, whether the people they liked were special to them or not. Why is that? Why does pushing lips together mean so much?”

If it were a simply question, Michael could answer. Gavin was still grasping at human culture, human tradition, flailing to catch the threads laid in front of him before they vanished and he never got to find out. If it were only a question, Michael could answer.

“Why didn't you ask Griffon?” he stammered, shuffling away from Gavin on the couch.

“She told me to ask you.”

Bastards. Michael hissed softly through his embarrassment. First Geoff, now Griffon. Did they mean to make all the rumors true? To get him fired?

Gavin was still staring and he refused to look away. He surely registered Michael's blush, the way he avoided the robot's gaze, and yet he kept staring. Michael set the heart down again, its weight suddenly heavier than before.

“It's a reaction,” Michael said, tackling this from the most objective standpoint he could. “Humans get pleasure from kissing. No one's really sure why, there are scientific theories about compatible mating and stuff. Mostly it just feels good because humans like physical contact. That's why we gave you sensors for pleasure, so you could experience that.”

“But other forms of physical stuff feel good!” Gavin brought his arms up wide, almost encircling Michael, as an example. “Hugging is great and I like laying on the couch together and stuff.” He set his arms down and tilted his head. “Why was kissing so obsessive?”

“She didn't give you the explicit books, did she,” Michael muttered. God forbid he had to explain sex to a robot, and he knew he would if Ray didn't put so much as basic information about romance in him. He'd need to have a chat with Ray about what information he found valuable.

Gavin was still staring, hoping for an answer.

“All right, well,” Michael started, “it's hard to explain without experiencing it, okay? And I honestly think Griffon would be better at this because I haven't dated anyone since I started working for the university, I'm too busy for it. But basically humans like kissing because they like it.”

Gavin opened his mouth to protest but Michael cut him off. “No, it doesn't make sense, but a lot of things don't. I'm sure you'd have just as much a hard time explaining why you ask me all these dumb questions in the first place, so trust me. Kissing is fun. That's pretty much it.”

Sitting back, Gavin pouted, unsatisfied. “Boring answer.”

“Yeah, well.” Michael picked up the remote and flicked the TV on, letting the noise fill in the space between them. “Humans are boring sometimes. That's a thing you have to get used to.”

But the fact that Gavin asked at all, and especially after giving such an intimate gift to Michael, sent red flag warnings up in his mind. Maybe he and Ray weren't done with their discussions about AI, just yet.

* * *

Jack stopped by the lab the next morning.

He'd been serious about getting comments from Michael for a follow up piece, showing up with bright smiles and an easy gate soon after Michael and Gavin arrived. He waved and started to say something, and Michael stopped him before he could get anywhere because he needed to have a word with Ray and if Jack would be so kind, could he wait a few minutes? Jack complied, hitting Geoff up for conversation and doodling on his notepad.

Gavin looked to Michael, imploring, and Michael nodded. Gavin beamed and bounded over to Jack, finally getting the talk he wanted from the first day Jack popped in their lab.

For once, Michael didn't worry about Gavin being taken advantage of. If any reporter could put Gavin in the right light, it was Jack. Sure that Gavin wasn't in a terrible amount of trouble, Michael sauntered over to the corner where Ray was working. “Hey, stranger.”

“Hi.” Ray pushed back from the counter where he had his laptop open and some file conversions rendering. “What's up? No challenging robot mechanics to work with today?”

Michael shrugged. “We're gonna test some other stuff with Gavin, but I gotta talk to you first. There's a couple things we need to address.”

Really, he should have done it sooner. Gus knew goddamned everything about the AI, but so did Ray, and what Ray lacked in Gus' years of experience, he made up for in emotional support. He didn't judge Michael for his panic over Gavin's wrist malfunction, and hopefully he wouldn't judge about this. They left the lab together, with a wave to Geoff and an assurance they would be back soon, and found an empty office in the IT department to steal. Unlike the engineering department, the IT guys were less strict about any room that didn't have a computer, and no one blinked when Ray wrote 'occupied' on the office schedule in the current time slot.

They went in and shut the door, thicker than the walls of the lab. Michael settled on top of the table at the center of the room, while Ray took a wheeled chair and immediately began spinning back and forth on his toes. “So,” he said. “What's so important that you gotta drag me out of the lab for it?”

“I have some questions,” Michael said, and promptly ignored the raised eyebrow from Ray. “If Geoff or Ryan hears, they'll just laugh at me. And there's no way I'm asking Gus about it, he's too logical.”

“This isn't about logic?” Ray said, his tone mocking. “Well, Michael Jones, do tell.”

“Shut up. Like you're great with stuff outside your precious computer.”

Ray shrugged. “I'll allow it. What's up?”

Here was where Michael failed, biting his lip once and spitting it out, drumming his fingers on the table Impulsive shit that he was, he didn't think this conversation out. Or rather, he did, for an hour as he tried to sleep and again on the car ride over, but he never found the words he wanted and he flailed as much as if he didn't think it over at all. It didn't help that Ray had dismissed him before, easily convinced that Gavin wouldn't ever have real emotions.

“Do . . .” he started, and stopped, searching for the right words. “Do you think Gavin's emotions are valid? I mean,” he said, at the raised eyebrow Ray shot him, “I know you said they're not real and not the same as human emotions, but come on, you have to admit they're valid. Gavin has some sense of the way we feel, right?”

That Ray didn't scoff or laugh, but instead stared at him blankly, told Michael more than enough. He waited for a response all the same, ears burning with blush.

“No,” Ray said, sending Michael's heart to his stomach immediately. “He's a computer, Michael. A program. AI can emulate emotions, sure, but it isn't the same as humans. There aren't any chemicals telling them to feel a certain way or react to something. It's coding, pathfinding. Gavin seeks out the easiest or fastest answer to a solution, and in the case of humans, that means acting a certain way to get a desired reaction, because humans are social animals.”

“But,” Michael protested before he could think it over, “isn't that essentially the same? I mean, chemicals make us automatically feel stuff just like the coding makes Gavin feel stuff, and he doesn't think through it or anything.”

Ray had started shaking his head halfway through, and stood to meet Michael's gaze dead on. “It's not a natural process,” he said, “and the second you cut off the codes, Gavin would stop emulating us. He would be a mindless machine, just like the desktops in the lab.” He tilted his head. “Why do you keep asking me this?” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “Are you trying to confirm something?”

Michael squirmed on the table, and jumped off. He turned his back to Ray, staring outside the small window on the other wall. The parking lot sat below the glass, cars driving in as people and students filed in for the day. “I have to prove that Gavin is more than just a robot. More than an android,” he said, quiet.

Ray didn't give any hint of a reaction. “Why?”

“Because!” Michael whirled back to face him. “Because the fucking dean of our school wants to take Gavin from the team and make him some dumb office appliance! He cares so _fucking_ much about money and all he wants is for Gavin to work for the school in some tiny office sorting files so Joel can drag him out whenever he fucking pleases and show him off to the media! It's unfair, and he doesn't understand how much it would hurt Gavin!” How much it would hurt Gavin and Michael both, he almost said, but didn't.

Ray stepped back, eyes wide. “Oh, I, uh.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I didn't know about that. Did-- did Joel tell you that?”

Michael's lips twisted in a grimace. “Yesterday, when I was pissed. He said the rumors about me and Gavin are getting bad and I should remember Gavin isn't always gonna be with us in the lab.”

“Oh. Well.” Ray looked away, and back. “Is that bad?”

“What-- of fucking course!” Michael snarled. “He's taking Gavin away from us!”

“I think he's taking Gavin away from _you_.”

Michael froze, halfway to shouting a retort, and nothing came to him.

Shrugging, Ray said, “Gavin's a machine. I knew from day one we wouldn't be working on him all the time. Gus and I have been talking about what we'll do when we get back to general IT work. Geoff and Griffon are planning the next project to improve the appearance of the dorms on campus, part of this beautification thing Griffon is working on. Even Ryan said he'd like to get back to the engineering department and start new stuff. You're the only one clinging to Gavin.”

“I'm not,” Michael said, his voice softer. He couldn't deny that he hadn't been looking forward to his part time schedule, distributing his skills to whoever called him because he didn't have enough clout around the university to do his own work. He figured it was part of being newer, of not knowing anyone in the higher positions besides his team, even after a year.

But the thought of leaving Gavin made his gut twist, and overlooking that detail proved hard when Ray was staring at him and spitting words he didn't want to hear.

“I couldn't care less what the dean does with Gavin, to be honest,” Ray said. “It's his property and his right. Yeah, it was fun, but we gotta move on. I can't give you confirmation for something that isn't true, Michael. Sorry.”

“It _is_ true.” Michael's hands clenched into fists, and it would be so easy to hit Ray, or the wall, or _something_ , but he restrained himself, arms shaking with the need to move. “Gavin has emotions. He hates being called a robot, he likes playing games, he's a good person. He doesn't deserve this.”

“He picked that shit up from you,” Ray said. “Don't pretend you don't correct everyone who calls him a robot, I noticed that shit. You care too much.”

“You don't care _at all_ ,” Michael snarled, glaring at Ray. “You don't give a flying fuck what happens to Gavin! He's your project and you're gonna throw him away?!”

Ray flinched, but didn't back away. “He belongs to the school.”

“So you'll let Joel lock him in an office and let him rot away while he rakes in money and publicity?”

“Look!” Ray bristled, finally reacting, and it felt so good to see him worked up, and Michael thought for a half second that maybe he'd cracked him, gotten through, and then Ray kept talking. “If you're so fucking desperate for love and emotional bullshit,” Ray said, “you can search the goddamn code yourself! I guarantee you'll find nothing! Gavin's a machine, he doesn't have emotions, get the fuck over it.” He wrenched the door open before Michael could respond, slamming it behind him. The vibration of his feet storming away rang through the floor for a moment, and disappeared.

For a few, drawn out seconds, Michael merely stood.

There was little other choice than to go back to the lab. He had work, and he'd promised to talk to Jack. Michael waited a few more minutes, kicking at the floor and glaring out the window, searching the world for something to blame his problems on. As much of a piece of shit as Ray was, he knew deep down he was right, that Gavin was nothing more than parts and electricity and he'd asked for his help on a hopeless whim based on the smile from Gavin the moment Michael took his gift, the gift that sat in his pocket at that very moment.

How could he not _care_ , though? How could Ray dismiss the dean using Gavin so callously? Could he not see the happiness in him, the sadness and the playfulness and the things that made him human? Was he blind?

Maybe not. Michael sighed and left the office, dragging down the hall back to the lab.

Ray had settled in at his computer, determinedly not looking when Michael came in, though everyone else turned their heads. Geoff raised an eyebrow and Griffon crossed her arms, head tilting toward Ray. _What did you do?_ they meant. Michael winced, and shook his head.

If Gavin had noticed the unrest, he didn't show much sign of it. He was in the middle of talking to Jack when Michael came in, and walked straight over to him. “Hi, Michael,” he said, though his tone was quieter than usual, and maybe he did pick up on the atmosphere. Michael nodded at him and moved to stand by Jack.

“Ready?” Jack asked, eyes flicking briefly to Ray.

“Yeah,” Michael said. “Ask me whatever.”

“Let's go in your office,” Jack offered. “Gavin, I think Michael and I should talk alone. I pretty much got everything I need from you. Okay?”

“We got stuff to do with him anyway,” Geoff said, grinning. “Come here, Gavvers.”

Gavin looked at Michael again, and shrugged. “All right. See you later, Michael.”

“It won't be long,” Michael assured him, already thinking of the tests he and Ryan had planned on. They wanted to test Gavin's nerves again; the last session got interrupted by none other than Jack and Michael wanted to run it without distraction. They never really got to test the pleasure sensing beyond fabric, anyway.

Ryan cleared from the office when they came in, giving Michael a wave before he ducked out. Michael appreciated the space, taking Ryan's favorite wheeled chair and kicking the other to Jack, who caught it one handed and plopped down. Instead of taking a pen to write in his notepad, though, he clasped his hands in his lap. “Ray seemed upset.”

“Yeah.” Michael huffed. “We got in a fight, nothing big.”

“Sounded big,” Jack said, gesturing vaguely to the door. “We could hear the screaming from down the hall.”  
“Fucking--” Michael jolted in his chair. “You heard that?”

“Not the words, no, but the volume. Must be a big deal to warrant getting so upset.”

Truer words had never been spoken. Still, Michael clamped his lips shut and turned away. “What'd you want to ask me?”

“Actually,” Jack said, “I got all my answers from Gavin already. I was asked to do an informational piece about how Gavin lives in a human's home, and Gavin told me pretty much everything. Where he sleeps, how you guys hang out, what you do when you go out in public, et cetera. It's gonna be titled something like 'The Domestic Robot.'”

“Android,” Michael corrected, and flinched. Ray was right on that one.

“Right, right,” Jack said. “I thought about leaving with that, but the yelling caught me, and I thought, well. I thought you might be interested in a night out, to go drinking and relax.”

Drinking? Michael let out a long breath through his nose. He couldn't remember the last time he went out drinking for the sake of it. He bought groceries that often included beer, both trusting and not trusting Gavin to stay alone at the apartment while he was out, and sometimes had a drink when the team went out for lunch, but he usually abstained because watching over Gavin while he was drunk took more energy than he could afford. “I don't think that's a good idea, with Gavin and all.”

“Let Geoff and Griffon take him,” Jack said, a tiny smile creeping onto his face. “Geoff told me a while ago that he wishes they could spend more fun time with Gavin. A couple of times, actually. They both like him a lot. They could take him for one night and you and I could go out.” He paused. “You look like you need it.”

Michael put his chin in one hand and tapped his fingers on his cheek. It did sound tempting.

“Geoff really said that?” he asked, unsure. “That he wanted to spend time with Gavin?”

“Yup,” Jack said with a nod. “I bet he'd be happy to take him on for a night.”

“Mm.” Michael considered it, weighing the options. He could go out and get drunk, come home, sleep right away without worry of Gavin getting in the kitchen or feeling left out, and come to work without yelling at Gavin to stop using the goddamned coffee pot before he burned himself. It sounded really nice, actually. “You know what,” he said slowly. “I'll take you up on that, if Geoff agrees to watch Gavin.”

Jack beamed. “Great. Can I meet you after work?”

“Yeah, yeah, lemme ask first.” Michael stood and went to the main lab area, searching briefly and going for the Ramsey office when he saw no sign of Gavin. He knocked once and let himself in.

Geoff had a sketchbook in hand, drawing out plans Michael couldn't see from his angle. More work with Griffon, he guessed. Geoff had taken up the table, sitting on it cross legged and leaving both chairs for Gavin. Griffon must have left the lab, and if Michael remembered right it was because she was working with the art gallery again.

Gavin was spinning idly in one of the chairs. “Yo, Gav,” Michael said, catching the back of it to bring him to a halt. “What are you doing?”

“Distracting myself,” Gavin answered simply. “Geoff's drawing something to show me.”

“All right.” Michael looked to Geoff, who hadn't flinched at the intrusion. “I got a question for you.”

“Oh?” Geoff set the pencil down and leveled his gaze at Michael. “Is it about your temper tantrum?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I think it was your loudest one yet.”

Michael blushed. “No!” he spat, narrowing his eyes. “I wanted to know if you and Griffon could watch Gavin for tonight. Jack asked me to go out for drinks after work.”

“Can't I come?” Gavin asked, spinning in the chair again.

“Not if I'm gonna get shit faced,” Michael said, laughing lightly. “I need a break anyway. No offense, Gav, but spending all day, every day, with someone is exhausting. I haven't had personal time in a while.”

Gavin stopped spinning again, this time of his own volition, and his face fell. “Am I bothering you?”

“Hell no.” Michael smiled and ruffled his hair. “It's a thing that happens with people, they just get tired of hanging with the same person all the time. You'll be right back with me tomorrow, I promise. I wouldn't toss you on Geoff and Griffon for no good reason.”

“But if you had a good reason,” Geoff teased, and smiled. “Just kidding. Sure, I'll take the lad for a night. Griffon wants to show him the house and see how his artistic skills fair on a canvas, since bringing paint in the lab isn't exactly following policy.”

“Gav?” Michael turned to him. “How do you feel about spending the night with the Ramseys?”

“Well.” Gavin paused, swerving the chair back and forth with his toes. “I like living with you, Michael. But I guess a night with Geoff would be fun.”

“Of course it will be!” Geoff jumped from the table and clapped Gavin hard on the back, drawing a tiny 'oof!' from him. “I wanna see if this shit about video games is true, too. Never heard of an android that could play Xbox.”

Gavin perked up. “I'm really good at it! Michael gets mad whenever I win.”

“All right then,” Michael said, crossing his arms. “Gavin, you can go home with Geoff after work. If he and Griffon don't break you, maybe we'll make it a regular thing.”

“Psh, says the kid who freaked when Gavin's wrist stopped working. Griffon and I'll take better care of him than you do. Probably bring him back in better condition than he is now.”

“Michael didn't break me,” Gavin said, but Geoff just laughed and patted him on the back again.

“Good,” Michael said. “Glad that's settled. Now, let's get on with the tests we planned, shall we?”

 


	12. Chapter 12

Jack left shortly after Geoff agreed to take Gavin, back to his office at the newspaper to work on the next story. Michael and Geoff set up shop at the work table in the center of the main room, clashing as many tools together as possible to draw annoyed grunts from Gus. As he pulled supplies from the storage boxes and off shelves, Michael tried to catch Ray's attention, but Ray staunchly refused to look at him. It was possible he was just _that_ into his work, but he doubted it.

They ran similar tests to what they'd done the first time, having Gavin give verbal confirmation for a number of sensations. Not much had changed except that Gavin articulated better and joked around more, a sign of his evolving personality. For the pleasure portion of the nerve testing, they were supposed to touch Gavin various ways and measure how human touch registered and whether it differed from object touch. After they were so rudely interrupted the last time, by Jack, interestingly enough, neither of them had a gauge to measure Gavin's response against. Given how eagerly he hugged and touched people, it would go well, but it didn't stop Michael shuffling awkwardly when Geoff tucked away the fabrics and toys he'd brought from him to have Gavin handle and mentioned the human touch portion of the test.

At the sight of Michael squirming and ducking his head, Geoff rolled his eyes and bravely volunteered to give Gavin a light massage. Michael gratefully took up the task of writing Gavin's answers, which quickly became stuttered as Geoff worked his hands hard up and down his back. Michael blushed and turned away, the sight of Gavin shirtless and panting through the new sensation a bit too much. So wrapped up in the massage was Gavin that Michael had to ask three times how high on a scale from one to ten Gavin would rate the pleasantness of the touch. Geoff giggled at the sight of them both.

After ten minutes and about twenty questions that Gavin stumbled over his own lips to answer, Geoff stood back, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. He grinned at the sight of Gavin, loose and content on the table with his arms stretched forward and head lolling. Michael snatched his shirt and ordered Gavin put it back on, and the amount of time it took Gavin to listen drew another laugh from Geoff.

The rest of the day, while Michael wrote down numbers and generally loathed the menial tasks, Gavin relaxed and stayed near him, not making noise but occasionally giving a comment. Michael couldn't help snickering privately at the state of him; if he knew all it took to calm Gavin down was a thorough massage, he would have done it sooner. It made going through the day easier, especially with the way Ray kept his eyes on his own work. Michael went so far as to ask him direct questions, but all he got was a pointed finger to Gus. Ray wouldn't even be bothered helping him work. Michael sighed at his reaction, and left him alone.

When it came time to leave, Gavin wasn't keen on it.

Michael packed up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, glancing around for any sign of him. Gavin had left his office several minutes ago, muttering something Michael didn't hear and slipping quietly out the door. Michael left the room and knocked on the Ramsey office door, smiling at Geoff when he opened it. “Hey, is Gav in there?”

“What? No.”

Michael frowned. “No? I thought he would be with you.”

Geoff shrugged. “Nah, man.”

“I'm here, Michael.”

Michael jumped and turned. Gavin stood directly behind him, shaking his head a couple times and twiddling his thumbs. “Sorry,” he said. “I just . . . got nervous, had to take a breather. I knew you'd be leaving soon.”

Michael resisted the urge to laugh or smack a palm to his face. “Hey,” he said, and put a hand on Gavin's shoulder, rubbing it. “I'll be back tomorrow, promise. One night away isn't gonna kill you.”

“We'll have fun,” Geoff promised.

“Yeah.” Gavin nodded, putting his hand over Michael's. “I know.” He smiled and pushed the hand away gently, stepping around Michael to stand by Geoff. “We get to play video games, right?”

“As many as you fucking want.” Geoff clapped Gavin on the back.

“Okay then,” Michael said, calmer at the sight of Geoff and Gavin getting along. He could trust Geoff, he knew. Even if Gavin wasn't the only one who wanted to avoid spending the night apart. “See you, Gavin. Bye, Geoff.” Michael hitched his bag up higher and nodded at them both.

They waved, Gavin more enthusiastically than Geoff, and Michael turned to go. “Bye!” he called to the lab, glancing around at his coworkers. Gus and Ryan answered quietly, but he still got no response from Ray. Michael looked at them one last time, sighed, and walked out.

A quick text from Jack, who apparently got his number from Geoff before going back to work, told Michael which bar they were meeting at. He closed his phone and hopped in his car, glad the drive wasn't too far. It was a bar frequented by the older college kids, but on a weeknight it wouldn't be too crowded. Ten minutes later, he had parked and taken off his coat, strolling to the door with his hands in his pockets.

It felt odd, to be out somewhere without Gavin, walking across the empty parking lot to the bar that let out a soft thrum of casual music through its thin walls. For the first time in a month and a half, he could be in public without worrying over Gavin, fretting over each action and reprimanding him for his behavior. He felt the same flood of gratitude he got after being relieved of baby sitting his nephews, with an unexpected dash of worry thrown in. He could trust his nephews with their parents. Gavin with Geoff? He wasn't so sure.

In the wake of meeting with Jack, who sat at the bar and waved him over, Michael pushed the thoughts away and took the stool beside him, smiling. “Hey, Jack.”

“Hey. Glad to be away from work?”

“Hell yeah.” Michael waved at the bartender and asked for a beer, turning back to Jack once he had a drink in his hands. “Feels kinda weird, leaving Gavin in Geoff's hands, but you were right. I could use the fucking break.”

“Glad to hear.” Jack sipped at the drink he already had, a quarter gone but disappearing at a slower pace than Michael's. Michael didn't peg Jack as a big drinker, and he was proven right as he worked his way through his drink and ordered another before Jack had gone halfway through his. They made idle chit chat while they drank, about their days and the calm experiences of their lives. Jack shrugged at any mention of news work. “I fell into it when my wife became an editor,” he said, swirling his beer bottle. “She dropped the job in favor of volunteer work after a couple months, but I liked being a reporter. It gave me a reason to pay attention to everything.”

“Hm.” Michael took a swig, considering. “Lucky break then,” he said.

“No kidding.” Jack laughed. “How did you get into engineering?”

Michael went quiet, lips turned down and staring at his beer. Jack waited, sipping his drink, as Michael stared at the lip of his bottle. Long minutes passed between them. At least he had been right about the bar not being crowded on a week night, though it had its fair share of frat boys and girls enjoying themselves after a long day, and the noise filled his mind like a satisfying cacophony. He took a deep breath. “I was an electrician,” he said, after taking another drink. “I did it right after high school. I didn't have plans for college, I hated school. My parents had two other kids to worry about. It was a good job. But.” Michael licked his lips. “It was _fascinating._ I didn't expect to like it so much. Hooking up wires and fitting pieces together with my tool set, I liked it a lot. I picked up a book on it and read a lot that summer. Turns out it wasn't just electric stuff, mechanics in general were great. Long story short, I changed my mind, studied by myself until I could apply for the next semester at a school, got my bachelor's and master's, and came to Texas. The university offered me a nice job after they saw my thesis on robotics. The project with Gavin started a while after that.”

“Great,” Jack said, finishing his first beer. He ordered a water and sipped more greedily at that. “It's awesome to discover what you wanna do and get there.”

Michael tapped his fingers on his beer. “I might be in love with him.”

Jack sputtered on his water, coughing hard and putting the glass down. “I'm sorry,” he said between choking noises, “you _what_?”

Michael blushed and turtled into his shoulders, shrinking to be as small as possible. Great, him and his big mouth. Now he remembered why he didn't drink on the regular; shit like this poured out of him. “Gavin,” he clarified, much softer. “I think I'm in love with Gavin.”

“Well--” Jack cleared his throat one last time. “Well, okay. That's new.”

Michael blinked, and whirled on him, brows furrowed. “Aren't you-- aren't you gonna tell me that's stupid?” he asked, throat closing and blood pounding as the full realization of what he'd admitted settled in him. “Or ask why I think that? Or, I dunno, laugh?” Yeah, he definitely wouldn't be drinking again after this, god fucking damn it. “Gavin's a fucking robot, and I just confessed sappy happy feelings like a moron.”

Jack shook his head, taking another careful drink of water. “That was a very personal thing to admit, Michael, I wouldn't laugh at you.”

He turned back to the bar and glared at his now empty bottle, not hesitating to order another and gulp down a large amount.

“Geoff's been worried about you, you know.”

Michael didn't look up from his fresh bottle, but perked at Jack's words. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. He told me you've been really close with Gavin, really protective, but also pretty stupid. He told me Gavin gets mad at you a lot.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, tone falling.

“But he also said Gavin is thrilled to be around you, and always talks about the fun you have together, and how happy he gets when you're worried about him even though he doesn't want you to be worried. He said you two are as close as he and Griffon were when they started dating.”

Michael bristled. “We're not--”

“Dating, I know. That'd be a bad image, wouldn't it?” As Michael looked up, Jack pulled out his phone and started shuffling through something, swiping the screen with his thumb. “Keep talking, I'm just looking for something.”

Michael wrinkled his nose, but nodded. “It's just--” he stopped, searching for the words. “Did Geoff tell you what the dean wants to do?”  
“No.” Jack looked up from his phone, setting it in his lap in order to meet Michael's eyes.

“He wants to use Gavin for money,” Michael said, spitting the last word. “He wants to put him behind a desk and use him like a filing cabinet so it's convenient to drag him out for press and shit, I fucking hate it. Anyway.” Michael swallowed. “All I can think about is how I _don't_ want that happening, how much it fucking hurts to think of Gavin stuck in some office with no human interaction unless the dean says it's okay. That's not him, Jack, he loves people. He even got mad at me for not letting him talk to you after that stupid conference, he thought you were nicer than everyone else and he jumps at the chance to talk to anyone he likes.

“And I'm so fucking scared he's gonna end up in an office and hate it, and I don't have any power to stop Joel from doing just that, and . . .” Michael paused, nostrils flaring. “I shouldn't be this worried if Gavin's just a machine. I mean, Ray worked as hard, if not harder, and he's not worried at all. He knows what Gavin is. A machine. Even if people like him because he looks human, he's not, and I fucking hate that I have to remind myself of that.”

“Hm.” Jack turned back to his phone, scrolling through menus. Michael peeked at what he was doing, jumping back when Jack pushed the phone at him. “Here,” he said. Michael gingerly took it. On the screen was the picture of a smiling woman, hair tied in a bun and holding a plate of cookies. She stood in the middle of a sunlit kitchen, with a dog sitting at her feet. Jack's wife Caiti, Michael realized.

“That's one of my favorite pictures of her,” Jack said, smiling at the screen. “It's got everything I love in it. My wife, my home, and my dog, Emma.” He paused, and laughed. “Food, too.”

Wary of where this was going, Michael gave the phone back. Jack tucked it in his pocket and held a hand up, gesturing around him. “I love this town, too. I grew up here. My family's been here for generations. Do you think I love all those things the same way? My wife and my dog, or my house and the town? No.” Jack shook his head slowly. “They're all different. And they aren't all human. Why should love be limited like that? I can love my dog and it's no less valid than my love for my wife. Maybe I'd be sadder for longer if something happened to Caiti as opposed to Emma, but I don't want either of them hurt.”

Michael snorted. “I don't love Gavin like a dog, though. I--” He licked his lips. “I love him like a person.”

“And who says you shouldn't?” Jack shrugged, as though he weren't suggesting something strange and disgusting. Michael shrunk into himself even as Jack kept talking. “Humans love a lot of stuff, is my point. Who knows why. You shouldn't be ashamed for loving Gavin.”

“But he's a _machine_ ,” Michael said again, ignoring Jack's frown. “And I haven't been with anyone in a long time. Having Gavin at the apartment has been really nice. What if I'm lonely? What if I'm being a pathetic asshole? That's a shitty reason to think I'm in love with a robot, just because he keeps me company at night.” Just because he was sweet and considerate and made Michael laugh and gave him presents that sat heavily in his pocket and ticked innocently when he wound it up.

It was Jack's turned to roll his eyes. “Were you lonely before Gavin?”

Michael scrunched his eyebrows together. “Not really.”

“Then you're not lonely,” Jack said. He finished the last of his water and pushed the glass away. “You care about Gavin and I bet it's not superficial. Like I said, I love my house and my town, those aren't living things. But they bring me joy. I love coming home to something familiar, and I love going out on the town when I have the time to enjoy the sights. So Michael.” Jack looked him in the eye. “Does Gavin bring you joy? Because if he does, than no amount of emotion you have is stupid. Even if Gavin is technically not human and it's possible to copy him, I promise it wouldn't be the same. This is _your_ Gavin, and you just told me you love him. Nothing else should matter.”

The words were heavy, and hit Michael like a brick to the face. He sat still, taking them in as he stared at nothing in particular. His Gavin. _His_ Gavin. Michael tried the phrase out in his own head, mouthing the words, and found he kind of liked it.

“Speaking of the wife and dog,” Jack said suddenly, pulling out his wallet. “I should get going. Do you need a ride or are you good?”

“No,” Michael said quietly, and shook his head. “No, I'm . . . I'm good.”

“All right.” Jack gave him a gentle pat and pulled out enough bills to cover both their drinks. “Listen, Michael.” He waited until Michael was looking at him. “This whole thing with Joel? I'm sorry, but I really don't know what to say about that. I know Joel, he's a bit eccentric. The best I can say is do your best to reason with him and show him why this is important to you. As for Gavin.” Jack smiled. “Tell him what you told me. I think he'd appreciate it.”

Michael nodded, and Jack slipped off his stool. He waved goodbye and wished Michael well, walking out of the bar with his hands in his pockets. Michael sat for another minute, staring at the empty beer bottle in front of him. It was time to leave, to go home to a peaceful apartment and get a night to himself, to play games on his own or watch a movie, or even read a book, which he hadn't done since Gavin took the liberty of arranging his bookshelf in an order that pleased him and made it near impossible for Michael to find the books he wanted.

Rather than turn his car down the road leading to his apartment complex, though, Michael went in the opposite direction. Through the commercial district and toward the suburbs, he soon came to a small ranch house nestled in the middle of the street. He parked behind the truck in the driveway and got out, smirking at the sound of excited noises from inside the house. He walked to the porch, under the decorative awning with decals carved under its roof, and rang the doorbell. Stepping back, he rocked on his heels and admired the house's woodwork while he waited.

Someone laughed inside, and Michael thought he saw Geoff walk by the window at his right. A second later, the door opened, and said man stood before him, beer in one hand and eyes wide. “Michael?” he asked, leaning back. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Jack went out.”

“We did,” Michael said. “But he had to go home. I thought I would stop by and pick Gavin up.”

Geoff raised an eyebrow. “You said you were leaving Gavin with us.”

“Oh, uh.” Michael swallowed and ducked his head. “I changed my mind?”

“Well.” Geoff smiled knowingly, falling against the doorway and sipping his beer. “Gavin's having quite a bit of fun here. I think he'd be upset about going home. But, if you wanna join us.” Geoff waved his hand toward the entryway. “We have plenty to drink, and you can even stay over if you want, so you don't have to drive home.”

That wasn't what Michael intended at all. He thought to whisk Gavin away, to mull over what Jack said and make a decision from there.

Drinks and a place to stay without worrying about getting home did sound nice, though. Michael licked his lips. “If you don't mind . . .”

“Get in here, idiot,” Geoff said, laughing. “Gavin hasn't shut up about you since we ended our GTA session. Turns out that when you don't eat, it's easy to fill dinner with mindless chatter, and he talked our goddamn ears off. Maybe we can get on some actual topics if you're here with us.”

Michael smiled and walked in behind Geoff, slipping his coat off. He paused at the coat rack, glancing around. He'd been to Geoff's before, invited over with Ray and Ryan and even Gus when they all felt like getting together but didn't want to go somewhere they needed to show class. More often than not it was just him and Ray, the two youngest with the smallest amount of responsibility on their plates, but the evenings when they all shared a night as a team were good. The last game night had been when they were about to start actually building Gavin and they celebrated making the milestone with Xbox and Geoff's best ribs.

The house had changed since Michael had last been here. There was more art, and the furniture in the living room had moved. Michael touched the back of the couch lightly as he passed through into the kitchen, where he could hear loud conversation.

Geoff was at the edge of the room, just beyond the door and tossing his bottle in the recycling under the sink. Gavin and Griffon stood around the island at the center, Griffon with a cocktail and Gavin leaning over the counter on his elbows. They both turned when Michael came in. Griffon smiled. Gavin leaped from the island and rushed over, slamming into Michael in a tight hug. “Michael, you came! But what about Jack?”

Michael's breath rushed out with the force of the hug, but he circled his arms around Gavin and tucked into his neck, breathing deep. The familiar scent settled him, and he said quietly, “We had a nice talk. I missed you, though. Geoff said I could stay the night with you guys.” Michael pulled back to look Gavin in the eyes. “If you don't mind the intrusion.”

Gavin bounced on his heels. “Of course not, you donut! Do you need a drink? Griffon, can you make him something fancy like the thing you have?” He turned to look at her, still bouncing and thrilled. Griffon nodded, lifting her drink and looking at Michael, questioning.

“Sure,” Michael said, stepping away only far enough to make Gavin drop his arms, but keeping a hand on his waist. “Sounds delicious.”

Griffon's skills with drinks were better than Michael thought, it turned out. His cocktail was fruity but with a biting aftertaste that made him smack his lips and drink more right away, finishing it in record time. Griffon insisted he wait before having another, and they filled the time with idle chat, eventually moving from the kitchen to the living room. Geoff settled in a recliner with Griffon in his lap, and Michael sat on the couch with Gavin, unashamed about having a hand looped over his shoulder. Gavin tucked into him easily, pressing his face into Michael's shoulder on occasion.

“Wait,” Geoff said, a few hours later, as they finished the last of the drinks they currently held and relaxed into the comfortable state between buzzed and sloshed, “you actually recorded yourselves playing video games?”

“Yep,” Michael said, popping the last letter. “It's called a 'Let's Play,' a bunch of people on YouTube are doing it. I thought about it myself, but Gavin came up with the idea for us. He said he wanted to prove how angry I get during games.”

“I was right,” Gavin muttered from beneath Michael's chin. Something in the back of Michael's mind wondered if he should be so brazenly cuddling in front of Geoff and Griffon, but they hugged all the time at work and he'd stopped caring after the third cocktail.

“Yeah, sure,” Michael said with a wave of his hand. “So I watched some of the footage back and it's actually pretty funny. Gavin doesn't know the first thing about a lot of games and I get worked up so it makes for a cool balance when we play together. I thought about uploading the videos to YouTube. It's, ah.” Michael licked his lips, eyes flicking to the ceiling as he searched his brain for the tidbit he'd heard ages ago. “It's like that guy, right? That dude who has parties with his robot or whatever?”

“The researcher in France,” Griffon supplied. “He programmed him with a knack for rhythm and they go to parties together. Last I heard he wanted to start some sort of dance program at the institution he works at, but a lot of people are wary of learning dance from a robot.”

“Him, right. It's like him, if I could upload this shit and, like, show people how Gavin is.”

“Sounds good,” Geoff said, “but isn't it about time we got some rest?” He eyed the clock above the television. “We have work tomorrow.”

“Mm.” Michael half nodded, leaning closer to Gavin to press his face in his hair. Gavin shivered, tucking further in the crevice of Michael's neck. Michael idly wondered what would make Gavin react that way, and then he breathed hard and there was another shiver. Michael laughed lightly, purposefully breathing harshly out of his nose. Gavin whined and punched him lightly in the shoulder.

“Michael?”

He leaned up, looking at Geoff, who had his eyebrows drawn. “Bed,” he reminded him.

“Oh, right.” Michael sat up, Gavin falling over his lap at the sudden movement. He gently pushed him off and stood, stretching. “Should I help?” he asked, gesturing to the empty glasses on the coffee table.

“I've got it.” Griffon uncurled and scooped up the dishes, taking them to the kitchen with a swaying walk that had Geoff staring after her. Michael didn't dare glance to catch the view. Besides, Gavin pouting as he sat up and ruffled his hair was funnier.

He laughed at Gavin sorting himself. “Did I mess up your precious 'do?”

“Your breath tickled,” Gavin said, shaking his head back and forth.

“Okay, well.” Geoff got up as well, Gavin following his lead. “Guest bedroom?” he said, cocking his head at Michael.

“Sure.”  
“I thought I was staying there!” Gavin squawked.

Michael giggled, from both Gavin and the drinks still making their way through his head, and swung an arm around Gavin's shoulders. “We'll share it,” he said, glancing at Geoff, who shrugged.

With the living room cleared and the ingredients from the cocktails put away, Geoff and Griffon wasted no time telling Michael where everything he needed was and sashaying their way down the hall, laughing and kissing as they fumbled their way through their bedroom door and shut it loud enough to ring through the house. Michael flinched at the noise and tried not to think about what they were doing.

Gavin waited in the bedroom while Michael washed his face and brushed with the spare toothbrush. He shucked his clothes off, ready to wear boxers to bed, and hesitated.

Sharing a bed with Gavin hadn't quite hit him until that moment, head clearing as he stared at his nearly naked form in the mirror. Michael blinked, eyes going up and down his own reflection. Had Gavin ever seen him like this? Possibly, when he was getting dressed in the morning and too tired to care if his bedroom door was open. They'd certainly never shared a bed; Gavin insisted on the couch, even after Michael offered to change the sleeping situation. Gavin's sleep mode had stopped being creepy and he felt bad, keeping him in the living room. But Gavin said no the first few times and that had been that.

Michael stepped into the guest bedroom from the hall, after making the final decision to put his t shirt back on. Gavin was on the bed, shoe and sock less and playing with the threads in the blankets. The lamp light was soft, casting gentle shadows over the blankets and Gavin's body. Without filth and body odor to speak of, Gavin had no problem sleeping in his clothes, although, like Michael, he was clad in only his shirt and boxers. Michael padded quietly across the wood floor, smiling at him. “Did you have fun?”

Gavin looked up from the bed, grinning back. “I did! Geoff and Griffon are really nice.”

Michael sat beside him on the edge of the bed, putting a bit of space between their bodies. “I wasn't kidding when I said Geoff wanted a son,” he said, head hanging low. “Geoff told me he always imagined having a boy. He said, when his wife was pregnant, he pictured playing sports and teaching him football and wrestling and stuff. I think he still does some sports with his kid, but, you know. It's not the same.” Michael shrugged, touching the sheets as Gavin had been. They were fine cotton, strong but comforting.

“How is it different?” Gavin turned, shuffling over the bed, getting into Michael's space, arms a hair's breadth apart. “Is there a difference between how children of different genders act?”

“Eh.” Michael shrugged. “People raise them different, I guess. Point is, I think Geoff likes having you around, because it's like having a son that he never got.”

Gavin closed the space between them, putting his head on Michael's shoulder. Michael shifted his weight and leaned on one arm to better support him. “Would you still make me live here?” Gavin said. “If Geoff asked?”

“Nah.” Michael reached a hand up to tousle Gavin's hair, prompting a small grunt from him. “I like you too much. I couldn't even leave you alone for one night.”

“What'd you and Jack talk about?”

Michael went stiff, hand still in Gavin's hair. “Um.” He swallowed, pulling away and sitting fully on the bed, his feet drawn in. He clasped his hands around his ankles, squeezing them. “Not much,” he said. “Work, I guess. I'm a little stressed.”

“I noticed.”

Michael looked up, and Gavin was in his space again, faces inches apart. In the light of the lamp, only half his face was illuminated, eyes bright and hopeful. He was on hands and knees in front of Michael, fingers edging against his toes. Michael flinched and drew back, but Gavin moved closer. He inhaled sharply, just before Gavin pressed a light kiss to his lips. It was fast, and Gavin fell into the pillows and blankets the moment he pulled away, curling into himself. “I hope you feel better,” he said, quiet, as he tugged the blankets over his body.

Michael sat, frozen, lips still warm from Gavin's artificial heat. He didn't answer, and after a moment heard the even breathing that told him Gavin had gone into sleep mode. Michael turned to confirm this, seeing Gavin with closed eyes and lips slightly parted. Michael lingered on those lips a moment too long, before he blew out a long suffering sigh. “Well,” he whispered, “that's something I am not gonna fucking worry about right now.”

He laid down with Gavin, leaving a couple feet of space between them, and hid in the darkness under the sheets.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Gavin kissed him again in the morning.

Michael woke up curled in the blankets, his back cold and his body much closer to the middle of the bed than he remembered being. The blankets behind him had been flipped over, exposing his back and legs to the air. He shivered and drew into himself, trying to kick the blankets over and warm up. As he wrestled with them, someone shook his shoulder, and he turned to see Gavin, dressed and holding a cup of coffee. The sight of him, standing eagerly by the bed and pushing the mug towards him, made Michael laugh. A second later he groaned, a headache starting after sleeping on his neck the wrong way. He muttered a quick thanks to Gavin and took the cup, sitting up in bed.

The coffee didn't taste like sludge or wet napkins, prompting an eyebrow raise and another quick sip. Geoff must have made it, then. Michael drank it thoughtfully, eyes drifting to the table by the bed. On the top, drawn out of his pocket when he changed the night before, was the ticking artificial heart. It didn't tick now, the power from winding it running out the morning previous. He'd spent only a second wondering if it was a good idea before bringing it with him to work, the weight grounding him. Now he stared at it, last night filtering into his mind as the coffee cleared out sleepy debris.

Gavin had kissed him.

He paused in the middle of a sip and held the cup away, resting between his hands on his knees, face flushing. He could feel Gavin in the room, humming behind him and exploring the bedroom because he hadn't got the chance the night before. He was tinkering with the carved wooden knick knacks on the dresser when Michael turned, and when he felt Michael's gaze, looked at him with a smile.

“You kissed me,” Michael said. No accusations or blaming, simply a statement.

Gavin ducked his head immediately. “I did.”

“Why?”

“Ah, well.” Gavin moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed across from Michael. “You said the best way to know why people like it, is to experience it. I wanted to see what it was like.”

“You could have kissed Geoff, or Griffon.” Not that they would let him, or maybe they would for the hell of it, but it wouldn't mean the same thing Gavin wanted to know.

“I wanted to kiss you.” Gavin looked him in the eyes, smile fading. “Was that not okay?”

“It--” Michael stopped, and licked his lips. Gavin stared and he turned away, taking another sip of his coffee.

Before he could answer, Gavin said, “Did I get the coffee right, at least?”

“What?” Michael's head snapped up. “You made this?”

“Yeah, with Geoff's coffee maker. He woke me earlier and taught me to use it.”

“He woke you?” Oh. Now that he thought about it, Michael hadn't stopped to wonder why Gavin was up before him, when he needed a voice command to wake from sleep mode. Geoff had taught Gavin to use the coffee maker for a decent drink, something Michael hadn't done in the month and a half Gavin spent with him.

Perhaps banning Gavin from the kitchen hadn't been the best idea. Maybe he should have taught him what he wanted to know instead of yelling and pushing him out, knowing Gavin would go back the next day and try again. And maybe instead of avoiding the questions about kissing and intimacy, it would have been better to explain it as best he could, so Gavin didn't test him like this.

He should have enjoyed it, honestly. He admitted to Jack last night how much he loved Gavin and cared for him. But instead of the pleasure he should have felt when Gavin insisted on kissing him, Michael's stomach turned. He forced himself to look at Gavin again. “You wanted to kiss me?”

Gavin hesitated. “You taught me everything else about humans.”

Michael blinked, and his shoulders relaxed. So that was it. Problem solving, the Gavin way. He sought solutions the way he knew best. Michael snorted and shook his head, relief and disappointment flooding him at once. “You can't just go around kissing any random person, Gav. It has to be someone you like.”

The response he got almost made Michael drop the hot mug on his bare lap. Rather than say anything else, Gavin frowned, and climbed across the bed, leaning in to peck him once more on the lips. It lasted longer this time, Gavin pressing in and feeling Michael, letting the sensation register before he drew back with a wry grin. “I like you, though,” he said, and then stood, bounding out of the room before Michael could say anything else.

Suddenly aware of how close it was to falling, Michael tightened his grip on the mug and watched the door, waiting for Gavin to pop back in and laugh at him. When he didn't, Michael downed the rest of his drink as fast as he could stand the heat, and got out of bed.

Griffon had gone already, promising to pick Ray up on her way to the lab, but Geoff was still around, making food for Michael and preparing for work. Michael dared not bring up the kissing in front of him, but shot Gavin a few incredulous looks, to which Gavin merely smiled and continued flitting about Geoff, reveling in the fact that he was allowed in this particular kitchen and could watch closely the process of cooking scrambled eggs. Eventually, Geoff shoved him away. “The oil will splatter on your skin,” he said, but his tone was warm, and he eagerly let Gavin add the spices he asked for when the eggs were nearly done.

They drove in together, but Gavin insisted on riding with Geoff. Michael took the time alone in his car go over the kisses again and again, and wonder what they meant. Gavin had read Griffon's books. He had an idea of romance. Surely he knew how it could be read, to kiss Michael on the mouth like that? He might like Michael, but he wouldn't have a sense of love or romance, he hadn't been taught it and he had no experience in order to understand it.

That was what Michael told himself, trying desperately to keep the blush off his face as he walked in the lab. He stopped halfway through the door, catching sight of Ryan in the middle of the room and staring back at him. Michael swallowed, jostled as Geoff and Gavin made their way past him. “Uh, Ryan?”

“I need to speak with you.” His tone was clipped and impatient, waving Michael to their office. He glanced at Geoff and Gavin. Geoff raised an eyebrow and shrugged, unaware of whatever Ryan needed to say. Gavin's brow furrowed, stepping quietly behind Geoff. He wouldn't know anything about this.

Michael followed, closing the door gently behind him. “What's up?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Joel emailed me back. About Gavin, what he wants to do with him.”

Michael froze, about to take his seat, eyes on Ryan. A moment passed where they said nothing, Ryan's cold gaze telling Michael everything he needed to know. He frowned, sitting down heavily, his headache coming on again. “Same answer, huh?” he asked, voice low.

“Sort of.” Ryan stayed standing, arms crossed. “He said we can keep Gavin's situation as is, for now. But when the project officially ends, when Gavin can't take up all our time and we have to move on to other work, he wants to put him in an empty office that one of the professors used to have. It's near the main office. Joel wants to have him help with sorting and scheduling.” Ryan pressed his lips together. “He would still be with us, and we'd need to keep fine tuning him. I expect Joel will probably ask us to build a similar robot down the road, to try and improve on Gavin's model. You're right, though. We'll stop seeing him.”

Michael clenched his teeth as Ryan spoke, limbs tight and coiled close to his body, ready to spring and hit the next thing that pissed him off. It didn't matter if it was him or Ryan or Geoff or _anybody_ , Joel would never give up.“I knew it,” he muttered darkly. “I knew he wouldn't listen, even to a senior employee. Gavin is doomed.”

“It's not that bad,” Ryan said, in an attempt to assuage the coming rage. “You can visit him and talk to him. Just, not as often. It won't be so bad.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael challenged, standing up, hair flying in his face. He let it obscure his vision, let himself hide under the locks as his rage built like a tower in him, rising higher and higher until it toppled to the ground. “Will it be _bad_ when Gavin becomes miserable?” he asked, stepping closer. “Will it be _bad_ when his existence is reduced to a cheap show, a money maker?” He was at Ryan's face, shorter but no less intimidating for it. “Will it be _bad_ ,” he spat, “when he rarely sees anyone, when his AI lapses into redundancy and inactivity, when he loses what makes him special? Because it sounds pretty goddamn fucking bad to me, Ryan, to trap a person in an office and never let them out!”

He was shouting by the end, no doubt able to be heard through the walls. He had his fists balled at his side, skin straining over the muscles, blood pulsing viciously in his veins. Ryan flinched and backed away quickly, holding his hands up. “Calm down,” he urged. “This won't solve anything.”

“But what _will_?” Michael kicked his feet like a petulant child, with nowhere to direct his energy that wouldn't destroy equipment. Feebly, he aimed another kick at his chair, unsatisfied with the quiet clacking it made as it fell over. “All he fucking cares about is money, Ryan,” he said, turning back with narrowed eyes. “I swear to fucking god. Gavin doesn't deserve this bullshit!”

“I don't think so, either, Michael, but he's a robot, he can adjust--”

“To monotony and loneliness, I don't fucking think so.”

“He's a machine, Michael!”

There it was. That word, that label. The definition that everyone else on the team went by, the justification for their treatment. Gavin, the robot, the android, the machine, that they could test and play with and laugh about because of course he didn't have feelings, and it didn't matter in the end if he ended up in a dark room with nothing but busywork, and Michael would never see him again because no matter what Joel said about the team still using him, Michael had pissed him off and he didn't doubt the level of Joel's pettiness, the extremes he would go to, to make sure Michael worked as far away from Gavin as possible.

“No,” Michael said, shaking his head slowly. “No, he's not just a machine. Either way, it doesn't mean he can't feel, Ryan. He deserves more than being treated like an appliance, and I'm gonna make fucking sure that he isn't.”

He left the room, slamming the door behind him. He stopped short, suddenly under the gazes of Geoff, Ray, and Gus. No doubt they heard the shouting, staring at the door to their office. Behind Geoff, Gavin stood, tucked against his back. When Michael came out, he lifted his head, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted in silent question. Michael looked away. “Sorry,” he said, breaking the quiet. “I'm not feeling well right now.”  
“Michael,” Geoff said, “is there something you should tell us? Something about Gavin?”

“Yes.”

Michael turned, catching Ryan's eye. He had come out from the office, and stood beside him now, determined. “Michael told me about it a while ago.”

Sagging his shoulders, knowing he was cornered, Michael added, “Ray knows.” He threw an accusatory glance at Ray, whose eyes darted away. Geoff kept staring at him, arms crossed. It was Michael's turn to look away guiltily.

Ryan sighed at them and set to explaining the situation, stepping in front of him. “Joel told Michael that he wants Gavin to work under the university, for publicity purposes. He claims that after we finish the project, he wants Gavin to do simple work in his office so he's available for press and media. Michael was upset, and I tried to email Joel about it, but he's not budging. Obviously, it's a sore subject.” Ryan looked to Michael again.

“He wants me working for him?” Gavin said, soft and curious.

“That doesn't sound so bad,” Geoff said. “We knew Gavin wouldn't always be our main focus.”

“It's taking advantage!” Michael said, losing his temper yet again and glaring at Geoff. “And it's not _just_ working here, if it was that I wouldn't fucking care, if Gavin was okay with it. But he wants Gavin in the university _twenty four seven_. He wants to store him in the lab or an empty office or some bullshit, by himself. He wouldn't get to see us, he'd be a fucking puppet for Joel to use.”

“You mean,” Gavin said, stepping out from behind Geoff, closer to Michael, “I wouldn't live with you anymore? I'd live here?”

Michael softened his tone. “Probably, Gavin. I doubt I would be able to see you unless Joel said it was okay. Which, I'm guessing, he wouldn't most of the time.”

“That's not fair!” Gavin said, prickling. “I live with you!”

“Exactly.” Michael leveled his gaze at Geoff. “No matter how nice Joel makes it seem, at the end of it, he's taking advantage and ignoring what Gavin wants. I won't fucking stand for it.”

Geoff frowned, lips turned down in the closest thing to embarrassment Michael had ever seen from him. He glanced between him and Gavin. “We . . .” he tried, and licked his lips. “We knew this would happen.”

“It's still not right!”  
“We can't do anything about it,” he said, throwing a sharp look at Michael. “Joel doesn't change his mind.”

Michael growled, moving to stand within inches of Geoff and looking straight in his eyes. “And that means we can't fight this? That we can't try? What about Gavin?”

“He's a robot,” Ray said, finally speaking up.

“He has _feelings,_ ” Michael hissed, turning to Ray. “Is that so fucking hard?”

In the background, Gavin said, “You think that, Ray?” He looked at him like a kicked puppy, face scrunched and full of disappointment. Michael moved from Geoff to be near him, putting an arm around his shoulder, and keeping his eyes on Ray, as if to convey exactly how much of this was his fault. A convincing argument from Ray or Gus, and Joel might have left them alone, convinced of their opinion above Michael's and with such little lack of scientific knowledge that he would have to believe them if they vouched for him, if they confirmed the emotions Michael saw every day.

Something in the back of his mind clicked. Michael paused in rubbing Gavin's shoulder, and drew back. Gavin made a noise, but Michael ignored it, digging in his pants pocket. “Here,” he said, shoving the heart at Ray, pushing until it was secure in his hands. Ray jumped back at the sudden change, but cradled the metal heart almost as gently as Michael did. “See that?” Michael said, pointing at where it sat in Ray's palm. “Gavin fucking made that, with Griffon's help. He made it for me, because he wanted to prove he has emotions. Geoff,” Michael side eyed said man, “told him that the difference between robots and people is that people have hearts, and he took that to mean he needed one to be treated equally. He made it so he could prove how much like us he is.”

Ray stared down at the heart, and looked up. “This doesn't prove--”

“Does it _matter_?” Michael glared, and gathered Gavin by his side again. “You're going to sit there looking at a gift he made me, and tell me his feelings aren't real? That they don't mean anything because they're made of metal instead of biological shit? Get off your high fucking horse, Ray. I'm done with this shit, and I'm telling Joel that, too.”

“Michael,” Geoff said, stepping between him and Ray. “Yelling at Joel will get you the opposite of what you want.”

“Doing nothing did fuck all,” Michael growled, turning back to Ray. “Can I have that back?”

Ray glanced at the heart one last time, and dropped it in Michael's hand with a frown. “Thanks,” he muttered, slipping it back in his pocket. “Look, I have to try. This is important to me.” He glanced at Geoff. “I'm willing to bet it's important to you, too.”

Geoff turned away, sheepish.

“Right.” Michael pulled up his coat, and spun around to face Gavin, gone quiet in the wake of fighting. Michael huffed a little breath and walked closer, tucking a hand around Gavin's cheek. “I want you to stay with me,” he said, “and I'll do anything for that to happen, okay?”

Gavin nodded, leaning into Michael's hand. “Okay.”

“All right.” Michael leaned close, touching their foreheads together, the most he would dare in front of everyone else, and stepped back. “I'm giving Joel a piece of my fucking mind. I'll be back.”

All were silent as he left, except for Gavin, who whispered, “bye,” as Michael went for the door and hurried out, stalking down the halls to the main building, where Joel would be waiting with that shit eating grin. They'd see if he could claim Gavin didn't have emotions after seeing his work carefully crafted into a gift. Besides that, it showed Gavin could be useful with more than just filing and receptionist work. He was smart, and not just because he'd been programmed that way. Gavin wasn't the same as the day he woke up, he'd learned and grown. If that wasn't human, Michael didn't know what was.

He didn't bother with Melissa, muttering a quick apology to her as he barged past and into Joel's office. The man was sorting papers, as fucking always, his thin framed glasses sliding down his nose. At Michael's intrusion, he jumped and looked up, brow furrowing. “Michael?

“Yeah,” he said, shutting the door none too gently. “I have a couple things to say to you.”

Joel quirked an eyebrow, settling back in his chair. “Shoot,” he said, as if Michael hadn't stormed in and interrupted his quiet work, as though he were expecting him the entire time.

The calm ruffled Michael, that he could look at him so boldly when Michael was about ready to burst. His lips drew back, ready to spit out names and insults, but Geoff's words rang through his mind. He was right, in some fashion. Mindless yelling wouldn't get him far. “I want to talk about Gavin.”

Unsurprised, Joel shrugged. “And?”

“He doesn't deserve to be put away in some office,” Michael said, unable to keep the anger from his tone. “Gavin has feelings and wants and needs, just like us. They aren't any less real because he's made of metal and electricity, Joel. Please, you have to understand.”

“I do,” Joel said, sitting forward. “You've gotten attached. That's understandable.”

“He's attached, too,” Michael said, fists clenched. “Gavin wants to live with me. He hates the idea of living in the lab or in some dark room by himself. He likes it with me.”

“And yet,” Joel said, “not once has he come in here to talk with me the way you have.”

“Joel!” Michael snapped, hairs on his neck rising.

“He's a robot,” Joel said simply, pulling his glasses off. “What you fail to realize, Michael, is that making Gavin do what we want isn't hard. He's basically a program, after all, and programs can be modified according to our needs.”

Michael's heart beat picked up to an incredible speed, hammering in his chest so loud he almost couldn't hear his own thoughts. No, he wouldn't do that, he couldn't. Like before, though, Joel was threatening Gavin, this time with something Michael wouldn't be able to fight. And he was right. Ray or Gus or someone else in IT could take his memory bank out, reprogram him until he listened to whatever Joel asked, as long as the boss said the word. Maybe it was an abuse of power, and Michael could argue it, but no one would listen to him. The engineering whiz didn't want his robot touched, of fucking course. It would be Joel's word against his, and even with members on his team, Michael didn't doubt who they would side with.

Swallowing hard, he buried his hand in his pocket, yanking out the heart. “Here,” he said, flinching at how timid his voice had become. “Look at this.”

“What is it?” Joel asked, as he took it. He didn't handle it carefully, turning it over and back roughly, clinking the tiny parts inside. Michael bit back his command to be gentle.

“It's a present,” Michael said. “Gavin made it for me. He's skilled. And he knows enough about people to know about making gifts, how much it means to us. He's better than a lot of people I've met, honestly. I don't say he's like humans for nothing, Joel. He really does have a sense of us, desires and needs and all that.” The speech felt empty, repeating words he'd already gone over multiple times, but it was the best he had. There was no code that said 'these emotions are real,' nothing to signify that Gavin could experience joy and suffering the way humans did. This was the best shot Michael had, and he hoped to any higher power who would answer that it worked.

“Cute,” Joel said after a minute, turning the knob and watching the heart tick away. “Did you teach him how to be romantic?”

“No,” Michael said fast, blood rushing to his cheeks. “Geoff told him about how robots don't have hearts like people, and he got upset over it. He made that to show that he can be like us. Doesn't that count for anything?”

Joel shrugged, setting the heart on his desk. Michael snatched it, inspecting it for cracks or breaks as Joel spoke. “Not particularly, Michael. Look, I get what you're doing. I appreciate it, really, I do. Looking out for Gavin is a great thing.”

Michael lifted his face, eyes narrowed.

Smirking, Joel continued, “It's like I said before. If you object so heavily to Gavin working under me because he wouldn't 'like' it, I'll simply have his personality removed. I'm sure Gus would do it, if I asked. He can be a mindless machine for all I care, as long as he still demonstrates the skill of this university when he visits the public.”

“That's--” Michael stumbled over his words, taking deep, shaky breaths. “You can't,” he said, at a loss. “He's Gavin. He's-- you can't change him like that.”

“Oh, well.” Joel shrugged. “There is an alternative.”

Michael stiffened. “There is?”

“If you want to preserve Gavin as he is so badly,” Joel said, pausing a long moment, keeping Michael on his toes, “I can simply have his program uploaded to the lab's banks, and shut down his body completely. After all, he's mostly AI, isn't he? In fact.” Joel leaned forward and stood from his seat, looking Michael in the eye. “It might be more convenient, to not have to keep his body around. Of course, it would cause some complications with the public, but at least Gavin wouldn't be stuck in an office, right?” He smiled again, like a predator that knew he had his prey where he wanted him, a bird with a mouse in its paws and ready to snap its neck. “He'd just live on a hard drive, that's all.”

“You . . .” Michael held the heart close at his side, searching Joel's face for any sign of a joke. “You're a cocky fucking prick,” he settled on, but the words had no heat, his eyes wide and lips suddenly dry at the thought of taking Gavin away, of turning his body off and tossing it aside, foregoing everything Joel wanted about showing Gavin off and taking in money just to shut Michael up. “You wouldn't do that,” he said, breath shallow. “It's too much of a risk.”

“Eh, maybe.” Joel shrugged. “I'll probably leave him alone. My point is, Michael, that I could do whatever the hell I wanted, because this is _my_ school, and Gavin, or you know, project 8-I, as you'll remember he is actually filed under, is mine. And that?” Joel pointed to Michael's hand, where he held tight to his gift. “That's a party trick, a useless trinket. Unless it gets me in the headlines, I don't want to hear about it. Now, scoot. I have work to do.” Without another word, he plopped back in his chair, grabbing the nearest paper with one hand and pointing at the door with the other. “Keep him for now,” he said, “but if that robot doesn't take up at least half your work time, I'm pulling him out so he can do something useful.”

Michael felt the snarls and swears behind his lips, ready to jump out and bite Joel's head off. How badly the urge hit him in that moment made him shake, muscles tense, as though he could lunge and have Joel dead and gone in a second, and he would take over the school and make sure no one ever touched Gavin ever again.

Hierarchy and murder didn't quite work like they did in the animal kingdom, though. Michael glared daggers at Joel one last time, and slammed the door on his way out, the way he did the last time he paid Joel a visit. He didn't bother looking at Melissa, too preoccupied cradling the metal heart to his chest. If only protecting Gavin were as easy as shielding the tiny object, if he need only scoop Gavin into his arms to keep the rest of the world off him.

In his rush, Michael didn't catch the person calling out to him on his walk down the halls of the science building, yelling his surprise as someone caught his arm and pulled him up short. He clutched the heart desperately, nearly dropping it. Michael turned fast to scream at whoever had stopped him, lips open and voiceless when he saw Ray standing there.

“Oh, uh.” Michael swallowed, voice catching on the prepared shout. “What do you want?”

Ray dropped his arm and shuffled on his feet, eyes flicking briefly to Michael's chest, where he still had the heart. He ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “How did the talk with Joel go?”

Bristling, Michael said, “Absolutely fucking wonderful, it's why I'm dancing down the halls singing a jolly tune.” He frowned. “What do you fucking think?”

“Okay, okay, you don't have to bite my head off.” Ray waved his arms in a calming motion, and let them fall. “He still wants to take Gavin out of the lab?”

“He threatened to shut him down completely, if I kept bothering him.” Michael turned to look out the windows on the left wall, idly watching the students walking to class. “He's pretty fucking serious about using Gavin as a money maker. He didn't believe a word about Gavin's feelings.” He glared at Ray. “Like someone else I know.”

Ray ducked away again, face tinting red. “Look, okay, that's actually why I'm here. I was waiting for you.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I'm sorry, all right?” Ray sighed, running a hand through his ragged hair. “I don't-- you can't make me change my mind. I _built_ Gavin's AI, I know better than anyone, except maybe Gus, exactly how manufactured he is. Hell, I thought you would get it, you put his fucking body together.” At Michael's continued look of irritation, Ray shook his head. “Sorry, it's just, I have a hard time thinking of him that way. But . . . Geoff pulled me aside when you stormed off.”

He looked up, meeting Michael's eyes. “He told me I should think about it from your perspective, living with him so long and everything. And I guess, yeah, I'd be pissed, too. Gavin is nice. I can see why you might want to keep him around.”

“But you still disagree with me,” Michael said, heart dropping further, if that were possible.

“I'm sorry,” Ray said, and he really did seem it. His hands fell to his sides, nostrils flaring with the harsh breath he let out. “I was telling the truth. The code _can't_ account for anything like real emotions Gavin has. The best we really have is a history of his behavior and how it changed over time. That's typical with AI as they learn based on their programming. It's not any kind of evidence, and combing through it for any difference between Gavin and other AI in public records could take weeks, months. Even _then_ , it'd probably be shot down pretty fast.” Ray took a deep breath and shook his head. “The validity of emotions, even from other humans, hinges on belief. And a lot of people won't believe a thing about Gavin being like humans.”

Belief. Fantastic. He wouldn't even have the integrity of source code to back up what he said. Michael turned away, eyes scrunched together, closing out the world and Ray's words. There had to be a way to prove Gavin had emotions, desires, he was too real not to believe.

He lived with him, though. He spent weeks with Gavin, coming home every night and waking every morning to that soft smile, his bouncy attitude as he waited for Michael to get ready, the laughter he let out when they played video games and watched movies. Michael saw him and saw everything in his personality as it grew and changed. Anyone else saw . . . a robot. An admittedly human looking robot, but a robot all the same, and they couldn't relate to him the way Michael could. They knew he was made of metal and plastic and it was all they cared about.

“Joel wants him for money,” Michael said pathetically, dropping pretense. He was too tired to keep the tough act. He couldn't wait to gather Gavin up and hide in the apartment, making the most of the limited time they had. “He'll take Gavin when we stop being busy with him.”

“I don't know what to tell you, man.” Ray shrugged. “If I could do anything to help, I would. Can I offer some advice, though?”

Michael looked up.

Ray's brow furrowed, and he put a tentative hand on his shoulder. “A relationship with a robot _really_ isn't a good idea,” he said, “real emotions or not. I don't care what you do, but everyone else might give you flack if you keep freaking out. Just, have fun with Gavin while he's around, and get over it after Joel takes him back. Okay?”

Michael jerked back, knocking Ray's hand off. “I don't need advice,” he said, and turned quickly, starting back on the path to the lab that Ray had interrupted. He felt Ray walking after him, steps picking up as Michael walked faster. He sped forward down the hall and slammed the lab door before Ray got there, cursing under his breath.

Naturally, Geoff was still there, fiddling with sketches at one of the center tables. Gavin sat beside him and they were chatting up until Michael came in, walking quickly to them and crashing in the chair next to Gavin. “Hi,” he muttered.

“Hello.” Gavin leaned away from Geoff, toward him. “How did it go?”

“As good as before,” Michael spat, twirling the metal heart tenderly in his hands. “Joel is still a fucking prick with no respect for your feelings.”

Gavin's face fell. “Oh,” he said, the sound falling like a rock between them. He turned back to the table to stare at his hands, resting idly. Michael hurried to put his own hand over them, rubbing back and forth. Somehow, the plastic felt softer than usual. He pressed the backs of Gavin's hands gently with his fingers, running them up and down and squeezing. Gavin turned back to give him a weak smile, but it left as soon as it came, and he looked back to his hands. Occasionally he squeezed Michael back, and they stayed that way for a few minutes.

Geoff did a few slashes and a few final dots of his pen on the sketchpad, and set it down, looking at the pair. “Joel is set in stone, then,” he said, tilting his head at Michael.

“He won't let us keep Gavin as long as he can make money using him for his own work.” Michael didn't dare mention the threat to shut Gavin down. It was irrelevant, merely fuel for fear to keep Michael from barging in again. He wouldn't actually shut Gavin's body down, he had too much invested in him.

Still. Michael would keep it to himself for now.

“Well, that sucks.” Geoff pat Gavin on the head, running his hand through the hair. “I don't know how we could change his mind, Michael, I'm sorry. We've all got other work to do and Gavin can't stay with us all the time. But, maybe it won't be so bad.” He patted Gavin's back a couple times. “You could learn to like office work, right, Gav?”

Gavin narrowed his eyes, and tightened his grip on Michael's hand.

There wasn't much else to say, and they had work to be done. Without another word, Michael took Gavin and closed them in his office, away from Geoff and Ray and anyone else that decided they wanted to bother them, hiding from the world and getting wrapped up in themselves as Michael tinkered with his next project and Gavin asked him questions, not to find out what he was doing, but to fill the silence. It helped keep Michael's mind busy and away from what he didn't want to think about for minutes at a time, until he looked up at Gavin and saw Joel there, denying everything Michael said or wanted for his own agenda. He couldn't look at Gavin that way for long, ducking back down to stare at the tools he held and answer the next question on Gavin's mind.

It made for a long, exhausting day. At the end of it, Michael wasn't sure he'd done much except move around wires and plastic, and put away his equipment with a sigh. Gavin swung his legs in the chair beside him, standing when Michael did. “Are we going home?” he asked, softly.

Home sounded better to Michael than anything else had in quite some time. “Yes,” he said, and leaned in close, cupping Gavin's jaw and kissing his temple. Because he might as well make the most of limited time, right?

Gavin stuttered with shock, silenced when Michael kissed him again, this time on his lips, and set a hand on his back. “Home,” he said again, drawing back, “where we can forget about all of this.”

The change came on so fast that Gavin must not have been able to process it. No more than a few words escaped him on the way out of the lab, but he held tight when Michael grasped his hand, walking through the parking lot in full view of everyone there. No one looked their way, too wrapped up in their own lives, and Michael breathed a secret sigh of relief, not ready to face their claims and accusations even if he held Gavin in broad daylight.

They sat in silence on the ride home. Every few minutes, Michael reached over and pat Gavin's leg, reminding him that he was there and Gavin could say anything he wanted. It stayed quiet, but Gavin touched his hand back, breaking the grip when Michael had to put both hands on the wheel again. Nearing the neighborhood where Michael's apartment complex was, Gavin sat up straighter, and finally spoke. “Joel is going to take me away eventually?”

Michael tensed. “Fucking looks like it,” he muttered.

Gavin turned to the window, flicking away the pieces of hair that fell in his eyes when the air conditioning blew it in his face. As they grew closer to a colder season and a colder city, the sun set earlier than usual, and now it covered them in a pale glow, light distorted through the window to shine on their laps. Gavin turned back to him after a moment, lips pursed. “What if he couldn't use me for media stuff, then?”

Turning into their parking lot, Michael raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn't he?”

“Can't I refuse?”

Michael stopped, and inhaled hard. “He doesn't respect you,” he said, dropping his gaze. “If he didn't listen to me asking to keep you here, he probably won't care if you don't wanna work for him.”

“Why? I can say no, I can fight back.”

Because he'll reprogram you, he'll hurt you, Michael wanted to shout. You aren't human and you can be bent to his will and it's not fair that this was the way things had fallen. He shut his eyes tight. “It won't work,” Michael said, barely above a whisper.

Gavin was quiet for a moment, the car stopped and nothing keeping them inside except the tension and the loss. “He'll make me listen to him, then.”

When Michael didn't answer, he continued, “I might want to be with you, Michael, but I know what I am. I don't like it, but I'm not human. I know people can change my mind by plugging me in all those fancy computers at the lab. And you're worried, aren't you?”

Roiling in his stomach, anger and fear churning in a nasty poison that threatened his own sanity, Michael couldn't hold back the words anymore. “ _Yes_!” He slammed his hand into the steering wheel, pain ringing up his arm. “Yes, I'm fucking worried! He's gonna change everything about you if he has to, Gavin, and I can't win either way! You'll be gone and there's fucking nothing I can do about it.” He pressed his forehead into the cool leather on the wheel, barely avoiding setting the horn off. “He'll . . .” he gulped, almost choking on the words. “He'll even shut you down, if it means teaching me not to go against what he wants.”

Gavin drew in a sharp breath, and Michael wished for all the world he could take those words back, reel them in on a line and keep Gavin from thinking about the equivalent of his own death for as long as he existed. Instead, he turned to look at Gavin and let words spill out, trying desperately to soften the blow. “I don't think he'd actually do it, Gavin, there's too much value in you for him, too much for him to lose for it to be worth showing me up.”

“But he would do it,” Gavin said, voice soft. “He would do it, if you pushed him.”

Michael brought up a hand and cradled Gavin's cheek, at a loss for anything to say. Because Gavin was right. Joel might not intend to shut him down, to erase who Gavin was and all he'd done with Michael in his short time active and learning; but at the end of the day, he would do it, if Michael insisted on trying to convince him of what he didn't believe. To create something for money and fame and then be told it was human, it had emotions and needs, would push anyone to their limit if the idea went far enough. Michael could scream and slam doors and break things all day, but it wouldn't change how Joel saw Gavin, as an object to be used, and Joel would prove it if he had to.

Leaving Michael exactly where he had started. He could enjoy his time with Gavin now and hope Joel didn't cut off their contact when Gavin left the lab, or he could yell and throw things and be assured that he never saw Gavin again, or worse, that Gavin lost all sense of humanity he had.

If someone were to point a gun at his head, Michael wouldn't take Gavin's life from him, so he leaned in and pushed their lips together.

The strangest thing about kissing a robot had to be the taste. It was something akin to licking plastic, the way people did when they were kids and they had nothing better to do with their toys than put them in their mouths. Unlike a toy, though, Gavin kissed back, sucking in a breath, hands flying to Michael's face as he climbed across the center console and grabbed Gavin by the hips. His lips responded oh so well, pushing and pressing as Michael drew back and showered Gavin in the kisses he'd wanted to give him since the idiot started sleeping on his couch.

Designs came to mind as Michael kissed Gavin, how they gave him artificial breathing and a tongue that would move when he spoke and which now flailed as Michael parted his lips and urged Gavin to do the same. He didn't produce saliva, any liquid in his systems was a risk, but his mouth was warm and Michael never cared for wet kisses anyway. He kept climbing over the seat until he was seated in Gavin's lap, hands shoving Gavin's shirt up so he could paw his stomach and chest, moving from lips to jaw to neck in quick succession and reveling in the sound of Gavin panting. “I'm so tired,” Michael muttered, as he lost his urgency and instead pecked Gavin's collar, nosing close to the skin. He took in the warmth there, humming with electricity and a kind of life he would never know again, for surely Joel would fire him if he ever found out about this.

Gavin, hands in his hair, stopped the arching of his back into Michael's touch, breath stilted as he said, “Tired of what?”

“Of waiting,” Michael said, and kissed his neck again. “Of holding myself back.” He pressed harder on Gavin's chest and moved lower, licking against him, ignoring the impulse to spit out the chest hair he'd watched Griffon carefully attach to his skin. He flicked his tongue on a nipple and listened for the sharp intake of breath, recalling the days he and Ryan spent putting his nerves in the silicone, how they laughed at Griffon's insistence that they make Gavin as sensitive as the average human. Now he couldn't be more grateful, straightening to kiss him again, bent forward to tug his scalp against the hands still grasping at auburn curls.

Maybe they should have made Gavin less human. Maybe if he had metal skin and an unmoving face, a voice without tone and a body that could barely walk without pausing to calculate each step, he wouldn't have fallen so hard, so fast. If Gavin looked less human and didn't make Michael smile every day, he could tell Joel to do whatever he wanted and take the credit he wanted to for the android's creation. Jack was right; anything that could be loved, could show a semblance of love, was something that had emotion, and no one could tell Michael otherwise. It would have been so much better if Gavin weren't the android they built him to be.

“Let's go inside,” Michael said, lips against Gavin's ear. He shivered at the words, but nodded, fumbling for the handle. Michael let out a quiet chuckle and got it for him, slumping off Gavin and doing his best to straighten out his appearance before he stepped away from the passenger door. Gavin followed and slammed it shut, and Michael locked it. They hurried to the apartment building and snuck past the other doors, tossing glances at each other. Michael beamed the whole way, filled with something he hadn't had in far too long. His hands shook when he tried to unlock his door, and the moment it shut Gavin was on him again, kissing and touching and laughing.

Michael got away long enough to look him in the eye. “This feels good?” he asked. They tested the pleasure sensors, but, well, no one thought to kiss him.

Gavin's eyes lit up, and Michael must have imagined it because they weren't capable of the same change that human eyes could manage, but it looked beautiful anyway, and Gavin said, “I understand why all those women in the books couldn't stop talking about it.”

Another laugh between them, and Michael kissed him again, breathing deep and not caring that all he could taste was himself on something artificial because he felt the warmth and the way Gavin clung to him, fingers tight on his hips and feet dancing across his own as they stepped through the entry way to collapse on the couch, Michael underneath and Gavin tucked close. He had his head under Michael's chin and he nuzzled in, pressing kisses the way Michael had in the car. “It's so nice,” he muttered, tentatively licking up pale skin to his Adam's apple. “Warm,” he said.

Michael squirmed, kicking a pillow away. It slid sideways and onto the coffee table with the force of it, knocking an object off with a loud bang. Both men jumped and looked over. Michael saw the camera on the ground, giving a mental shrug as he turned to give Gavin more attention.

Gavin had a different idea. He yelped at the sight of the camera on the ground, slipping off Michael to the floor to grab it. He opened the side monitor and turned it over and under, checking for breaks in the case. “The fuck,” Michael muttered, and casually fell to the floor to kneel next to him. “Why?” he asked, conveying enough in a single word and hooking his chin over Gavin's shoulder. He broke through his anger and frustration, the need to punish someone for all his pain, to kiss Gavin with wild abandon, and he chose instead to get upset over a camera?

“I got worried,” Gavin said simply, affirming that nothing was in fact broken, and putting the camera back on the table. “I haven't backed up the SD card yet, Michael.”

“So?” He leaned in, kissing Gavin's neck again. It made him shiver, and Michael almost smirked victoriously, but Gavin stood and wandered out of the room, pushing Michael back in the process so he tipped over onto his back. “What the hell?!” he said, glaring at Gavin, who walked down the hall and out of Michael's sight.

Fantastic. Make out with someone in his apartment, and what did he get? Less concern than a camera and a shove to the floor. Michael sat up, ruffling his hair back into place and pushing his glasses up his nose. Gavin returned shortly, with Michael's computer. “Really? Now?”

“Yes, now,” Gavin said, sitting on the couch. He snatched the camera back and slid the bottom panel open to take the card out and push it in the port on the laptop. Michael taught him how to use his computer when he started showing Gavin ridiculous videos on YouTube. Gavin liked to read the news and check Michael's Twitter for him when they woke up early enough not to rush to work, prompting Michael to wake him before rather than after his morning showers. Now, Gavin logged on to his account and brought up the folder with the camera footage in it.

“Can't it wait?” Michael groaned. He crawled on the couch beside Gavin and tucked an arm around his shoulder, but when he tried to kiss his neck again, Gavin shook him off and turned to look him in the eye.

“You said Joel would reprogram me, or even shut me down, if you kept bothering him. Maybe you think you can leave him alone about this, but I won't. If he tries to make me leave the lab, I'll fight him on it. I want our videos with each other backed up if he decides I've gotten too big for my britches.”

“You--” Michael's throat tightened. He looked at the screen, and back at Gavin. “You don't have to, Gavin.”

Turning to the screen, he said, “Yes, I do. I won't let him tell me I don't want to stay with you. So let me copy these, Michael, in case something happens to me. You can watch them back as often as you like.” The corners of his lips quirked up, looking at the stills of the video files, the hours they spent playing games together and watching the videos back to laugh at their own reactions. Michael looked too, frowning. He said more than once that they should show them to the rest of the team, to share them, but never ended up doing it. They would judge him on it, watch the way he got close and laughed with Gavin, as if he were another human. Telling them Gavin could play games was one thing, but he wouldn't have them look at him like a spoiled child too attached to his toys by showing them how close he and Gavin had become.

After a moment, as Gavin selected files and copied them to the hard drive, Michael said, “All right,” and stood, tugging the sleeves of his shirt back in place. “I'm going to make dinner, and maybe we can relax when you finish that.”

“Mm.” Gavin looked up and snatched Michael's hand before he walked too far, bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss. “Thanks,” he said, smiling. “Nothing to say we can't keep macking later, yeah?”

Michael laughed. “Nothing at all.”

And they did, after dinner and a movie, relaxing together on the couch. Gavin insisted on watching the files from the camera copy over, and Michael watched him stare at the screen while he ate leftovers. Eventually, even Gavin's face stopped entertaining him, and he turned the TV on, leaning against one arm of the couch and shoving his feet on Gavin's lap. Gavin protested, shoving him back and almost knocking the computer to the floor. They settled for putting it on the coffee table, the screen open for Gavin to keep an eye on. Gavin sat with Michael's feet on him and, when Michael finished eating, laid on top of Michael with his head on his chest. The files finished a half hour later, and when Gavin shut the laptop with his foot, too lazy to move, Michael took his face to bring him up and kiss him harshly. Gavin grinned into it and crawled up to lay level with him, moving from Michael's lips to his neck and letting his hands wander.

Tonight wasn't a night for figuring out relations and physicality, though. They spent another twenty minutes making out and Michael could feel himself getting revved up, but he hadn't slept with anyone in quite a long time, and he hadn't the faintest idea of how it might work with Gavin; his wants and needs could be completely different from a human's, especially reading Griffon's trashy romances. Besides that, Michael needed space to think. He sat them up when they were both panting and he was fairly sure he could see an erection in Gavin's pants that he both did and didn't want to think about, but it had been a long day and the lingering frustration still nagged at him. Gavin deserved better than for their first fuck to be done out of anger and spite, an acceptance of his feelings that burned with hatred for Joel and what he was doing to them both. No, they could wait a while, until Michael calmed himself and thought things through.

“I'm gonna turn in early,” he said, kissing Gavin's nose. “Is that okay?”

Gavin smiled and knocked their foreheads together. “Sure thing, my little Michael. But.” He hesitated, glancing toward the computer still on the table. “Is it all right if I stay up? I don't feel much like sleeping, to be honest.”

Michael blinked, glancing at the laptop. “Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he said, and kissed Gavin again, soft and chaste. “Do whatever you want. I'll see you in the morning.” And another kiss, that lasted longer and had more tongue than Michael planned, eventually broken when Gavin giggled into it, biting his tongue between his lips mockingly when they looked at each other. “You're a dork,” Michael said, laughing, and gave him one final peck before forcing himself to stand. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Michael.” Gavin sat cross legged on the couch, waving at Michael as he left the room to walk down the hall to his own bed. Michael stopped just inside the door, and glanced back. He'd intended to invite Gavin in, to stay with him as they had at Geoff's place, except maybe more cuddling and less awkwardness. Still, if Gavin wanted to stay awake, he wouldn't tell him no.

Without the distractions of kissing and Gavin's soft touch, Joel and his orders crept back to Michael's mind. He would take Gavin when the work load slowed. He would reprogram him if Gavin resisted. And if all else went wrong, he would shut him down.

Even knowing how slim the chances of it were, it kept Michael tossing through the night, listening in vain for any sounds of Gavin to distract him, but hearing nothing except his blankets rubbing against each other as he moved restlessly.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After reading the chapter, be sure to check the end for notes! It contains important information, but must not be read until after the chapter because it has minor spoilers.

This Gavin-getting-up-before-him shit had to stop, because the second time waking up was worse than the first. Rather than shake him awake, Gavin full on _tackled_ the bed, jumping on the mattress and bouncing with a high pitched squeal as he grabbed Michael around the shoulders. “Michael, Michael, wake up!”

He jolted, first in shock and then annoyance, batting an arm at Gavin. “What, _what_ ,” he said, shoving him away. Gavin kept a hand on his thigh as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, glaring for a moment longer until he registered the unbridled joy on his face. “What?” Michael asked again, calmer. “Did someone cure cancer or some shit?”

“No, no, no!” Gavin shook his head fast and snatched him by the wrists, standing and dragging him out of bed. “You've got to look at this! I've been up all night watching the numbers!”

That explained being up before Michael's voice command, yet again. The little prick never slept in the first place. Michael rubbed his face again. “Numbers?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gavin tugged him down the hall, to the living room, and sat him on the couch. On the coffee table, as it had been last night, was the laptop, though this time it was opened to an Internet browser. “They've been going up and up, it won't stop!”

Through the fog of his half sleeping mind, Michael frowned. “You been using the Internet all night?” he muttered, picking up his computer. “That's gonna cost me a fortune.” It wouldn't, because most of Michael's Internet usage happened on campus, and at worse this would be a mild bump in his already high capacity data plan. The fact that Gavin didn't catch the complaint, but rather sat next to Michael and bounced on the couch cushion, made him raise a brow. Gavin hated upsetting people. This had to be important if he were so intent on it. “Okay, what numbers?” Michael asked, turning to focus on the screen.

The page was loaded to YouTube. More specifically, a video, paused at the very beginning. The title made Michael reel back, and look at Gavin, heart pounding. He didn't. He couldn't have. It would take so much work to pare down the footage, let alone get it edited into a proper format, render, and upload. It must have taken hours. Michael's breath came fast, questions and possible answers flinging through his mind.

“You posted this?” he asked, looking at the video again. “How, y-you don't have an account.”

“You're logged on the university account, mate.” Gavin pointed, and Michael, eyes widening in horror, saw the university's logo and YouTube account name. But, he hadn't logged onto it since they asked him to upload the video he made for his graduate thesis. That was over a year ago. Michael thought he closed out and kept on his personal account, the one he uploaded stupid shit, like this video, onto for people to laugh at. There were a grand total of ten videos on that account, random vlogs he made when he moved to Austin and started work in the university. Joel asked that nothing about the robot project be revealed and Michael stopped recording himself on his phone. He'd thought the camera footage had so little chance of winding up online by accident that he didn't care if Gavin wanted personal footage.

This was exactly what Joel _didn't_ want to see.

“It was in Chrome's memory,” Gavin supplied, seeing the confusion sweeping over Michael. “I meant to log in to yours and link it to Jack or something, but.” His eyes slid back to the screen. “I thought this might be more direct.”

Michael almost choked with the effort it took to hold back on yelling at Gavin. Gus and Ryan would _kill_ him for breaking the rules, not to say anything of Joel himself. If he weren't fired on the spot, he'd certainly he kicked off the project and then where would Gavin be, without Michael to vouch for him.

Remembering what started the discussion, he said, “What numbers? What were you talking about?” But he had a sense of what Gavin meant already, eyes darting to the number at the corner of the video.

“The views,” Gavin said, confirming his suspicions. Michael took a deep breath.

It had half a million views. Half a million, in one night. One _night._

“That's-- How-- why?” Michael could barely hold onto the laptop, staring at the numbers. Gavin reached around him to slide the track pad up to the refresh button, smiling when the number went up by a couple thousand. He leaned on Michael's shoulder with his chin. Michael looked at the title of the video again, wishing for all the world he never got that stupid camera and never let Gavin play with it, that he weighed the risks of Gavin being on video at all and not shirking it off because you couldn't accidentally post something from a video camera. Now their private evenings, their nights playing games and laughing at each other, was up on YouTube in a compressed ten minute video, with hundreds of thousands of people watching it. “Why did you do this?” he asked again, voice strained.

Gavin tucked his face closer, nose pressing at the base of his neck. “I'm not just a robot,” he said slowly, “and I have emotions. But Joel won't believe it without proof. So I made some. And he can't argue with all the people watching.” He took control of the track pad again and scrolled down the web page to the comment section. “See?”

Among the usual derogatory remarks, insults hurled about how unrealistic Gavin was, or conversely, how it must only be a dude wearing some make up to make his skin look synthetic, there were comments asking about Gavin. Some were from people who heard of him, the newest android from Texas that looked cute and had British charm built in. A lot of people asked why he was playing video games, if they planned to utilize that function for a commercial market. Some wouldn't stop talking about how realistic he was, how it looked like he was having fun. There were even a few that said something along the lines of wishing their computers had the emotions Gavin clearly did, for want of something electronic to interact with. It was overwhelmingly positive and not what Michael expected.

He could see what Gavin was getting at, angling for an online audience because an in person one couldn't be found. Michael frowned, glancing between the comments and the bottom of the video clip still visible on the page. “I don't know if this will help,” he said, pushing the laptop down his legs to sit at his knees, opening his lap so he could put his hands down and absently pat his thighs, bereft of anything useful to do with his hands. “Gavin, this is a nice thought, but Joel probably won't be convinced. A few people--”

“A few hundred  _ thousand _ people.”

Michael shook his head. “Some people talking about how human you act isn't going to convince him that you need respect and care. It would work for me, and hell, a lot of people seem to like it. But.” He leaned back on the couch, covering his eyes with one hand. “Joel is stubborn as fuck, and honestly, I don't know that he won't fire me for this.”

“What?!” Gavin dropped all amusement, curling on the couch beside him and taking Michael's free hand. The warmth almost made him smile, and helped with the enormity of the fact that Gavin had posted unlicensed content of university property on a public website, without permission. He was pretty sure that violated at least several of the policies he agreed to when he signed up for the team that would build Gavin, even if he weren't ignoring Joel's direct orders. New technology got protected at all costs, even with something this trivial.

“It's on the company account,” he said, sliding the hand from his face to look at Gavin. “It'll probably be deleted because they didn't authorize it. Joel will be pissed that we got PR he didn't approve of, and more so because it's about you. He's got a lot of time and energy invested in making you look good in every way that reflects that he was the one who made you, even if that isn't true. I wouldn't be shocked to get a pink slip by the end of the day.”

“Michael!” Gavin's brow drew together, and he tucked closer, hiding his face in the side of Michael's chest. “I'm so sorry, Michael, I didn't know.”

“No,” Michael agreed, “you didn't.” He wrapped an arm around Gavin and rubbed his shoulder, squeezing him tight. So much for enjoying the last of their time together. He would be fired, Gavin would be taken from the lab, and Michael would be lucky if he were let on campus again, let alone if he saw Gavin. Perhaps Geoff could work something out for them, but that was a stretch not likely to happen.

There was no use avoiding it, either. The video clearly had Michael and Gavin in it. Unless someone else took credit, Michael would be blamed, either in person or by email. Joel wouldn't feel bad about firing him over the phone.

So, he resolved to go into work, despite the disaster waiting for him. He could face Joel head on in his last moments and keep some of his pride. Maybe he could talk to the rest of the team about keeping Gavin safe, or at least visiting him when Joel stole him away. Getting up from the couch with a resigned sigh, Michael walked to the bathroom to take a shower, kissing Gavin's forehead before he left. No use hiding what they had if he got booted out.

The shower, normally a way to relax and clear his mind, only wound him up more. The views. All those fucking views. No doubt it would blow up on some robot centric website, right up there with that French idiot and his dancing android. Positive feedback helped; if other people were that enthused by a ten minute video cut together with the shit editor on Michael's desktop, it was obvious that he wasn't the only one who connected to Gavin on an emotional level. Others could tell how happy he looked and hear his laugh in the same way Michael did, with infectious cheer.

Still. It wouldn't help his case. Michael switched the water off and toweled his hair dry, wishing he could wipe away the anger with it. If he had to go down, he wouldn't do it quietly. He would kick and scream and tell Joel exactly where he could shove his ideas of using Gavin for publicity. No lying down and showing his stomach and begging Joel not to tell every university in the country not to hire him. His credentials were enough without him. Michael would be fine, and Gavin was his main concern at the moment.

Stepping out of the bathroom, dressed and almost ready to leave, he felt a weight in his heart at the sight of the poor android still on the couch, arms around his knees and watching the laptop screen, this time with apprehension instead of glee.

“It's impressive,” Michael said, coming up to the back of the couch and laying a hand on Gavin's head. “I didn't think so many people would like to see us play games.”

Gavin turned, allowing a small smile. “I knew they'd like it.”

Michael bent down and kissed the top of his head. It still felt strange, to kiss him and get no sensation of human scent and touch. His skin was slightly off texture, his hair lacking natural oils, and the crinkles around his eyes when Gavin smiled at him were just a bit too thick, distorted by silicone. But it didn't put him off enough not to feel the swell in his heart when Gavin leaned closer, putting a hand up to reach blindly for him. Michael took it and held it close, glad at least that Gavin could feel warm against him.

Several times through the morning, as Michael made his own coffee for a change and they drove down the busy roads, Gavin apologized. He wouldn't stop, bringing it up every ten or so minutes, looking at his hands and squirming as he muttered out little sorry's. Michael glared at him after the third one, and said, “Stop it. You didn't know. I don't blame you.” And he kissed Gavin across the seat of the car, quick so he didn't lose sight of the street. The kisses got easier each time, the strangeness of a synthetic body less jarring with every display of affection. Throughout the drive, Gavin kept a hand on Michael's leg and squeezed it.

He expected to be called down to Joel's office. He expected perhaps a few looks, if people at the university happened to see the video. Geoff, their resident newsie, liked to peruse the science websites and printed or cut out from the local papers anything that mentioned Gavin, and Michael thought he would call him out the minute he stepped in the lab.

What he didn't expect was the onslaught the moment he and Gavin got out of the car.

“Michael! Michael Jones!”

Someone yelled to him, and Michael turned, catching sight of a man he'd never seen before walking by, waving at him. “Cool video!” he said, when he met Michael's eyes. “Robot gamers, I never would have thought!”

It struck him oddly, thought not enough to disrupt his walk to the lab. Several other people stopped him, thought, to mention how much they liked the video. A woman about to enter a classroom, flashing her phone as she mentioned checking the university's account that morning. A man from the biology department that Michael recognized, who had been emailed the link by a friend. Even a person from engineering that Michael saw as he passed the section on his way to the lab, who clapped Gavin on the back and laughed about how they hadn't thought of commercial uses for their famous robot. Frankly, it was all surreal as hell and it sent shivers up his spine. Michael never got attention unless it was the negative reaction from his peers about his success with the team. Now people he never talked to were smiling and laughing about the video. Maybe he'd underestimated the university attention, given the video _had_ been on their account. It was still rather ridiculous.

He barely got in the door of the lab when he was accosted by Geoff, snatching his collar and holding him by it. Michael struggled and choked on the tight hold, prompting Geoff to let him go, retaining his scowl with hands on hips. “What the _fuck_ were you trying to prove?”

“Nothing!” Michael gasped, yanking his shirt away from his neck.

“Bullshit, nothing, you little--”

“Geoff!” Gavin stepped in front of Michael, waving his hands. “It wasn't him, it was me, I got in the university YouTube thing and put the video up.”

Geoff frowned, stopped in his tirade by Gavin's innocent expression and hopeful hands put up to protect himself. He glared between the two, one eyebrow raised. “Gavin did this?” He looked at Michael.

“I didn't ask him to,” Michael said. “I know I'm getting fired for it, chill the fuck out. I wouldn't make Gavin do dirty work like that, anyway, it's pretty fucking low.”

Pursing his lips, Geoff sighed through his nose. “That's still a problem.”

“I know.” Michael looked at Gavin. “Trust me, I know better than everyone else.”

“Well.” Geoff kept one hand on his hip and scratched the back of his head with the other. “Shit, I was prepared to chew you out. Griffon and Gus are in the office waiting to hear it through the walls.” He shifted his balance to one foot and crossed his arms, fingers tapping rapidly with impatience. He looked at Michael again. “I guess you know Joel wants to see you? He texted me.”

“I figured.” Michael shrugged. “I might as well face the music. But.” He leveled his gaze with Geoff. “I'm not going down without a battle. He has to know exactly how real Gavin is, and how much he's hurting him by what he's doing.”

“I can come with you.”

Both men turned to Gavin, tucked close to Michael again with a hand rubbing anxiously in his hair. “It might help?” he said, lifting the last syllable to make it a question. “Joel never really talked to me. Maybe that's why he doesn't see me as anything human.”

“You don't have to,” Michael tried to assure him.

“Good idea,” Geoff said.

Michael narrowed his eyes at him.

“Gavin's right,” Geoff went on. “Joel never said as much as three words to Gavin. He doesn't know all the range of emotions and expressions he's capable of. He sure as fuck doesn't know why we all like him so much. If he's going to yell at you anyway, you might as well try to show him what Gavin's really like.”

The grip to Gavin's hand was instinctual, as Michael faced him, searching his face for signs of doubt. Gavin squeezed his hand back and stepped a couple inches closer, bumping foreheads. “Let's try it,” he said, quiet.

Michael bit his lip and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Gavin beside him and the confidence in that little hand squeeze. They would both go down in this; Michael fired without a recommendation of any sort, and Gavin sequestered to some corner of the university offices to be taken out at will like a shiny toy. They might as well face the end of it together.

“Hey, lovebirds.”

Geoff brought them from their musing, blood rushing to Michael's face when he realized how their small interaction must have come off. He dropped Gavin's hand and stepped away, ducking his face. Gavin grunted and put his hand insistently on Michael's shoulder. Michael fought the urge to shake it off and looked up at Geoff.

He held no malice or judgment in his expression, only mild irritation. “Joel is still waiting,” he reminded them. “He said for you to go down as soon as you got here. I would skedaddle if I were you. No use making him angrier before you even get there.”

“Right.” Michael swallowed. “Right, yeah.” He hesitated, and slipped his hand in Gavin's again, smiling tentatively. “Let's go, boy.”

They dropped hands again in the hallway. Michael assured Gavin that the questions from professors and students weren't worth it for the time being, and made up for it by linking their arms in a decidedly more platonic gesture of affection. Gavin took it, leaning his head on Michael's shoulders when they had to stop to open doors and turn corners, lifting it when walking proved too bumpy for snuggling to be practical.

Melissa started to smile when they walked in Joel's office, faltering halfway at the sight of Gavin crowded into Michael's space. She hesitated and glanced behind her. “Hello, Mr. Jones,” she said faintly. “I, um. I saw your video.”

“Seems like a lot of people did.” Michael rubbed Gavin's back a couple times and pushed him off, walking to Melissa's desk. “I assume Joel still wants to see us?”

“Yes, he does.” She pointed to his door. “He's waiting for you.” If Michael had to guess, he would say his calm demeanor threw her off. She would have expected him to come in yelling about the success of the video or the value Gavin had, after overhearing the previous outbursts. Instead, Michael nodded at her and looked to Gavin, only moving to Joel's door when he'd caught up.

Unlike when Michael came in twice before for robot related matters, Joel didn't have a nonchalant attitude going. He sat back in his chair, eyes on the monitor on his desk, clicking through something. Michael would bet his salary he knew the exact page he had open. When they came in, Joel barely glanced up, eyes slipping back to the screen. “Sit down, Michael. Gavin.” He gestured to the chairs in front of him, still not looking as they sat and waited for his attention.

The longer Joel stared at his monitor, the more tense Michael got, shoulders hitching up before he reminded himself to relax again, only for the tension to go to his hands, squeezing the arms of the chair. Joel stayed silent for a few minutes, eyes flicking up and down as he clicked and scrolled, pointedly ignoring them, forcing Michael to squirm as they waited him out.

“It's university policy,” Joel said, finally taking his hand off his mouse and yanking his chair forward to sit properly at the desk, “to allow new employees with valuable thesis proposals to post their work on our respective websites. That includes YouTube videos. I didn't think you could still access it, Michael.” He turned to look at the man in question, eyes narrowed. “Our accounts aren't for frivolous use, regardless of what you might consider to be of value.”

“I know,” Michael said, working hard not to get angry just yet. “I didn't realize my browser had saved the information that long. In any case, I wasn't the one who posted it. Gavin did.”

Joel quirked an eyebrow, and glanced at Gavin. “Is this what he does when you don't keep an eye on him? Make our school look ridiculous with poorly edited home videos?”

“Hey,” Michael said, sitting up straight and putting a hand on Gavin's knee. “Firstly, he's got fucking consciousness and he can make decisions without people watching him all the goddamn time. Second, he didn't want to make the school look bad, he wanted to prove to you that he's not just some robot.”

Joel blinked slowly. “How so?”

Michael pulled his top lip back, nearly snarling, “He's got opinions! And emotions! Did you even watch the fucking video? Did you see how we had fun and shit? How can you say he's a robot with nothing to lose when he's clearly happy with me?”

The way Michael's tone curled around the last words prompted Joel to look between them, at the possessive hand Michael had laid down, and back up. “Fair enough,” he said, “although I still think you're wrong. But I'm not really here to talk about how silly the video was.” He leaned back and grabbed his monitor, turning it around. On the screen, as Michael thought, was the YouTube page for their video, with its steadily climbing view count. “Do you know how many views it has?”

“Half million,” Michael answered curtly.

Joel smirked. “Exactly. In less than twelve hours. That's something impressive.” He turned the monitor back around. “I'm not sure _why_ it spread so quickly, but the threads on the university's Reddit are going wild about it. Everyone thinks the robot is some precious ball of sunshine and that they'd love to have one of their own.”

“His name is Gavin,” Michael pointed out, but Joel ignored him.

“This is a new market,” he said. “One I hadn't thought about before. A personal robot, who plays games and can interact with average people? I wasn't sure people from our area would be interested.”

“People from our area?” It was Gavin who asked, tilting his head.

Joel peeked at him, grinning wider. “Yes, indeed. I'd heard about that yuppy in France with the dancing robot, or whatever it was. I always figured Europeans for impracticality. I didn't think people here would be interested in something similar.”

“Really?” Michael scoffed. “You wrote him off because he's French?”

“I have my reasons for wanting to keep Gavin strictly for direct university use,” Joel snapped, shooting Michael a glare. “But,” he said, softening, “this video has got a lot of buzz. It's the most web attention we've gotten since we released the robot to the public.”

“And that's good.” Michael said it with a mocking tone. Joel just nodded as if he'd been serious.

“Actually,” he said, rubbing his chin with one hand. “I was so focused on him being a revolutionary creation, I didn't think about the domestic applications. All the people online are talking about how they want a robot just like him. It's like,” he trailed off for a moment, and snapped his fingers. “It's like a pet! Companionship without the effort, except robots have the one up because they can talk and interact the way pets never can.”

“Gavin's not a pet,” Michael growled.

Joel waved his comment away. “Yes, I know, consciousness and emotions and all that. My point is, I've been thinking, since I got up this morning to quite the rude deluge of emails from staff and students. We talk to the news a lot and discuss Gavin's potential for technology, but we never mentioned his potential as a, oh, a type of friend,” Joel settled on, lips twisting with his distaste for the word. “I don't see the appeal, really, when robots can serve much better purposes, but people clearly want a robot they can have fun with. That guy in France is proof enough, along with the reaction to this video. People love seeing Gavin act like a human.”

Michael tensed in his chair. “Get to the fucking point, Joel.”

He blinked, and looked at Michael. “Tisk tisk, that is no way to speak to your boss. I will get to the point, though.” He sat forward and put his fingers in a steeple under his chin, smirking at the pair. “You're ever so desperate not to have Gavin work under me in some office in the building, all by his lonesome.”

Michael's grip switched, from Gavin's knee to his hand, more for his own security than Gavin's. Gavin glanced at him, and squeezed back, turning to Joel again.

“And this buzz is big. Really big.” Joel shrugged toward his monitor. “So I have a proposal for you, that should settle all your ruffled feathers and, if we play our cards right, make us even more money than I thought we could just showing the robot off.”

All Michael dared as an answer was a raised eyebrow. If he knew Joel, this wouldn't be nearly as great an offer as Michael hoped, and he would gloat because it was still probably better than the original option. Michael would have to concede to some underhanded deal and Gavin would be in danger with Joel still sitting victoriously in his pompous leather chair.

“I propose,” Joel said, ignoring Michael's narrowed eyes, “that we become the first to attempt engineering a friendly version of our modern robots. Like those robo dogs they had back in the day, something like a human that can offer companionship and affection, without the care and work needed for an actual human relationship.”

It took a moment for Michael to process the suggestion, and a great effort not to outright laugh in Joel's face. If Gavin's complaints about being treated like a robot, and his insistence on his affections for Michael despite being pushed away as Michael buried himself in work and tried to forget his feelings, were any indication of the 'ease' of having a robot friend, Joel was in for a world of news. But he kept his mouth shut, waiting to see where Joel went with this.

“The talks online are proof enough of a market. I did some digging before you came in, and really, there are about a million threads where people talk about what they would do if they had their own robot. In light of this, I want you and the rest of the robotics team, and possibly others from the rest of our departments, to work on a design for a robot that could be made and sold commercially. A cheaper, more industrial model, that has similar AI networking to Gavin. Something that looks and appears human, without the responsibilities or consequences.”

At this point Michael's eyes had gone wide, and he clenched his hand tighter than he meant to. Gavin winced, and Michael whirled to look at him, loosening his grip. “Sorry,” he whispered. Gavin nodded and gave him a little smile.

“Like that!” Joel nearly jumped from his chair and pointed at Gavin, beaming. “That, that was so fucking human, I want that.” He laughed, and composed himself with subtle shake of his head, looking at Michael again. “If we can get some sort of design cooked up, we can patent it and make prototypes, show the world the value of the everyday robot. I'm sure other places are looking into it, but they haven't gotten the reaction that Gavin has. They don't have the same basis for human robot communication that we do, after having him live with you for so long. We can examine his AI and how it's changed, and make other, simpler robots. It'll be the new American dream!” Joel clapped his hands, excited again. “A robot for every home! It's fucking brilliant.”

“Okay, what the fuck is the catch?” Michael asked, lips tight and body ready to jump at the first sign of trouble, wary of the way Joel bounced in his seat. “So we make more robots, so what? What the fuck should I care?”

“Oh, I think you would care a great deal.” Joel folded his hands again, and smirked. “The best way to find out if a robot can be friendly is to have it around humans all the time. There isn't much point trying to design a companion robot if we don't have any basis to go off of, right?”

Michael froze, heart leaping into his throat.

“If you're so hell bent on keeping the robot around,” Joel said, bringing his shoulders up and dropping them in an exaggerated shrug, “then _you_ can be the one to do all the personality assessments. Judge him, figure out how he ticks, get personal information that we can use. I would assign someone who knows more about AI, but.” Joel's eyes wandered to their clenched hands. “It would be easier just to get information from someone Gavin is already attached to.”

“Are you serious about this?” Michael frowned, not letting his guard down that easily. Joel could be joking and laugh his ass off when Michael believed him, or have some sort of trick up his sleeve that he would pull out when he least expected it.

“Quite.” Joel pointed at the monitor again, glancing at the screen. He dragged the mouse over and hit a button. “It's five hundred fifty thousand now,” he said, grinning. “I wouldn't doubt that it climbs to a million in the next week. In the grand scheme of YouTube, not as much as some of the other stupid things people upload, but it's more than enough to be considered decent market research. For every person who watches the video or comments on it, there are likely dozens who don't bother, but would still be more than interested if we had a robot model available for the home. I'm willing to risk the venture.”

“You're saying Gavin gets to keep living with me?” Michael inhaled deep, but didn't dare relax. “As easily as that, suddenly nothing is changing? I'm getting what I want?”  
“Oh, well.” Joel waved a hand. “I would still take Gavin on certain days for news blurbs and tours with prospective students, you know, to get the attention the school needs. But yes, he could still live with you. There would be new parameters regarding how you watch him for developing simulations of affection and such, but that will all be in the handout I plot out with Gus. I've already asked Melissa to email your team about it.”

All the wound up energy, all his preparations to yell his head off until his face burned red, deflated. Michael, mouth open, sagged in his chair like a limp noodle. Gavin squawked and leaned over him, touching his arm and saying, “Michael, Michael, are you all right?”

Michael gently swatted his hand away. “Yeah, I just. Uh.”

Joel leaned his chin on his hand. “You didn't think I could be reasonable, hm?”

“No,” Michael said honestly, shaking his head. “I was ready to bite your fucking head off.” He lifted his eyes, narrowed suspiciously. “What the fuck gives? You threatened to shut Gavin down completely, you prick.”

“Money,” Joel said simply. “There's only so much to be had from doing the same thing over and over, and originally I planned to have you make another robot just like Gavin. But Matt Hullum has been on my case about new discoveries and pioneering the field and blah, blah, blah, so I had to think up something interesting to do. Your video happened to pop up in my feed as I was mulling it over. Even if we don't succeed.” He shrugged again. “A lot of scientific endeavors fail. There'll be a lot of grant offers and sponsorships for a home designed robot, though, don't you think?”

Michael stared, wide eyed, at the impossibly bright face of fucking Joel Heyman. For the past three days, he'd tortured Michael with the thought that he could lose Gavin forever, that they would never be as close as they were now and he had to do what he could to protect him. He fought his emotions tooth and nail not to let them go where they were obviously headed, and at the sound of the worst news possible, he caved, letting himself indulge in Gavin in a way he thought forbidden.

And the fucker was sitting here, in front of him, with his head casually leaning on his hand and beaming at Michael like a kid who figured out where his parents hid the presents. It stunned him, forcing him to sit in the chair and think over the past week, how stressed he had been over something that never happened.

“Gavin gets to keep living with me?” he asked, voice hollow and lacking ferocity.

“For the foreseeable future.” Joel glanced at Gavin, and back. “If we get the right support, this next endeavor could easily last a few years. We can discuss what to do with him when it comes to that.”

“So you'll want to lock him up again,” Michael said quickly, pushing the worst assumptions out before they could settle and linger in the back of his brain.

“I want him _available_ ,” Joel said, the stress behind the word followed by a click of his tongue, “so that he might talk to the press and be able to benefit the school. If robots designed for the home become a hit, it's likely we won't need him for publicity anymore. It's all guesswork, Michael, but I hope you realize I am throwing you an _incredible_ bone here. I'm basically giving you what you wanted and you should be cheering for joy and kissing my shoes about now.”

Instead, Michael's lips drew back. “Watch it,” he warned.

Joel didn't flinch. “All right, fine, if you're not gonna praise me for finding a solution to your stupid robot problem. I'll be communicating with Gus about where we're going with it. Get back to your team, you're back on full time duty with them.” He waved his hand and leaned back in the chair, not looking at Michael anymore.

As he had before, Michael left Joel's office vaguely disgusted and wishing he could kick the man out in favor of someone with better social skills. This Matt Hullum guy had built a successful empire on computers; he had to at least know how to talk to his employees without sounding like a condescending prick. Michael dragged Gavin out of the room by the hand, letting Gavin shut the door before tugging him away. He didn't bother to look at Melissa. No doubt she had started on the email to Gus in Joel's place, to talk about the team and the new, sudden direction they were taking.

He had to have known. He _had_ to. No sane man just up and picked a new project willy nilly from a random video on the Internet, even one done by his inferiors. He must have seen the attention paid to robots that interacted with people on a daily basis and considered taking advantage of the close relationship between Michael and Gavin. It made no sense for him only to talk about it now.

Then again. Michael stopped in the hall outside the office, pulling Gavin to a stop with him. This was Joel they were talking about. Money crazy, opportunity grabbing Joel, who only funded project 8-I because Matt Hullum gave him the money, who was supposedly going toward this now because Hullum asked him to do something new with robots, presumably with further promises of grants he could supply in the blink of an eye. It might have been the case that Joel _had_ been considering a new direction for Michael and his team, but only stumbled upon the idea of personal robots when he saw, truly saw, the interactions between Michael and Gavin, and how people reacted.

It was fucking bullshit, but Joel was right. It saved them both.

“Michael?” Gavin tugged his hand away, to step in front of him and put both hands on his face. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I just . . .” He stopped, swallowing around his words. “Joel's such an asshole,” he muttered, lowering his head as he felt his eyes water. So much drama. So much terror. The fear of losing Gavin to a life alone, or complete erasure form his body, waiting and hoping for a miracle or lenience from the dean and kissing Gavin in his desperation to make the most of the break between now and the ticking time bomb. All for it to boil down into, 'Hey guess what, I'll make more money letting you keep Gavin instead.'

“Michael!” Gavin bent his face low to peer at him, at the tears coming down his cheeks. He tried to wipe them away with his thumb, only for Michael to push him off until Gavin dropped his hands, whispering about how Gavin would hurt himself if the water somehow got in his systems. Michael did his best to wipe them away, not to let his cheeks redden and his eyes puff as they blurred his vision with more tears. It was gross and he didn't want Gavin to see, tucking into the sleeves of his coat. God, he hadn't cried like this since he was a child.

Uncomfortable with standing there while Michael sobbed, Gavin reached out and pulled him into his arms, tucking his chin on Michael's shoulder and rubbing his back. Idly, as if he were watching a movie, he said, “I've never seen someone cry before.”

That brought a startled laugh from Michael, deriving quickly into hiccuping giggles, and he pulled his head up so he could shake it and laugh through the snot clogging his nose. “You're a dork,” he said, the same words from last night, smiling with Gavin on his couch as they panted and collected themselves in their desire, that meant so much more than 'I love you.'

Gavin grinned, concern fading as Michael's tears stopped. “But I'm your dork, right?”

Michael sniffled again and wiped the last of the moisture from his eyes. “Yes, you are,” he said, and leaned in to kiss Gavin's cheek, a hard press to convey just how thankful he was, no matter how stupid or frustrating the truth of the situation, that Gavin could stay with him, and that they could be happy together. Gavin's responding hum and the hands at his hips were all the assurance he needed.

* * *

The morning after, Michael woke up panicked and worried.

The day before, after gathering his wits and clearing the redness from his eyes in the bathroom, he had worked up the courage and the gall to storm in the lab, announcing to the team that Gavin was staying, theoretically for good. His attempt at bringing the unexpected news on them, and maybe mentioning how he knew all along that Gavin was important to them and the lab, was thwarted by Gus. He looked at Michael dead on and said calmly that the team already knew, because Gus had shown them the contents of his emails from Joel's office while Michael was in the bathroom bringing himself down from the shock and awe of Joel's impulsive, terror inducing threats and subsequent solutions.

They had celebrated with lunch, bringing Gavin along, of course, and Michael didn't care whether they interpreted his newly freed affection for the robot as riding the high or as the love the rumors had spread so rampantly. Either way, no one said anything about it, and Michael and Gavin went home that night clambering at each other's bodies, not getting enough now that they both knew there was no risk, no time bomb waiting to explode on their fantasy.

That was why, when Michael woke up panicked, it only lasted a couple minutes, long enough for him to gain coherence and turn over to see Gavin resting peacefully on his pillows, arm draped lazily over Michael's hip. They were both dressed in shirts and boxers, having fallen asleep with Gavin curled around him and his nose buried in Michael's hair. The comforting touch on his hip let Michael collapse into the pillows and rub his eyes, ready to stop thinking his life was a nightmare.

The dynamic didn't change much. Michael still woke Gavin up and Gavin made him coffee while Michael showered. Geoff hadn't taught him _everything_ about working the coffee pot, or how much milk to use and how many teaspoons of sugar Michael liked, which depended on the day and the cheapness of the coffee tin he'd picked up in the grocery store. Showing Gavin what to do and teaching him how to avoid hurting himself returned better results than banning him outright, although Michael took to hiding the knives in drawers rather than keeping them on the easily accessible wooden block they used to sit in. He also unplugged all of the appliances unless he was using them, which meant making toast and using the microwave became a chore, but otherwise his kitchen still functioned and Gavin was safer, which settled Michael's nerves.

Project Domestic, as Joel had so cleverly nicknamed their new task, started the very next day. Gus and Ray were assigned to examining Gavin's code for changes and to determine if these changes could be made the default for a friendlier, more sympathetic model off the bat. Geoff and Griffon were to design a new robot body that was appealing to the masses. While Joel obviously meant to make it adhere to human beauty standards within the lines of practicality, Griffon sketched any and all genders and body types as she sought the perfect appearance. Geoff helped where he could, which mostly consisted of sitting by and listening to Griffon list of possible uses for a home based robot and how the design would affect that.

Ryan and Michael didn't have much to do, stuck on the team for building and testing and not much else. So they resorted to what they had done at the beginning of making Gavin, creating blue prints out of Griffon's designs and scraping them when she changed something. It rounded out to about a dozen rough blue prints per day, saved to a hard drive for Griffon to take home with her and critique. It set a rhythm for the next few weeks, that Michael could see building into a few months, and Gus worked with Joel's strange demands and relayed everything to the team, to create a plausible product.

Any time they weren't occupied with laying down the basics for building a new robot, the engineers kept working with Gavin. He came in with Michael and stayed with the pair as they worked, making himself available for questions and tests as they went over data and talked about what might and might not work. Gavin had been based roughly off the designs for educational robots, made to teach and learn from as a prototype that made way for new projects. It was how most scientific teams started their path to robotics. The minor glitches Gavin still experienced now again, usually in a speech skip or an imbalance of posture, were taken into account as they considered the flaws and benefits of a robot used daily and vigorously for an array of purposes.

When Michael told Ryan the details of what Joel said to him in the office, the smug air he carried as he casually threw all of Michael's worries out the window and bragged about how 'brilliant' he was for coming up with the idea, Ryan shrugged and said he wasn't surprised. “It might have happened anyway,” he'd said, writing down in his notepad at his desk. “Even if Joel took Gavin to work under him and didn't use him for a while, he probably would have asked us to design another robot, and then we'd need Gavin for a base plan. Your video just prompted the idea sooner, with the bonus of you keeping Gavin around.”

Michael rolled his eyes and said, “He's still in the wrong for wanting to do that. You can't say Joel isn't a fucking monster for wanting to put Gavin away like an unused toy.”

“I agree.” Ryan had slipped his glasses off and turned to him. “And I'm glad things worked out for you. Really.” He glanced at Gavin, who sat in the chair beside them, reading another of Michael's fantasy novels, and gave Michael a knowing smirk.

Michael shrugged him off and hid in his own work, though he looked at Gavin, too, and laughed quietly when he met his eyes and smiled. Ryan knew better than the rest of the team how much Michael cared for Gavin, after seeing him break down over the initial threat. He knew that if they hadn't been able to keep him around, the shitstorm Michael caused would have gone down in university history, a flying rage impossible to forget. Ryan couldn't deny that Michael would fight for what he knew were Gavin's rights. But it was more than preventing a debacle that gave him a reason to be grateful. It helped the entire team to have Gavin kept on, as both a project and a friend.

“So,” Michael said, changing the subject, “any ideas for this new robot? I think Griffon wants us to design a woman this time.”

Ryan made a noncommital noise. “I don't know that that will change much. Although.” He tapped his lips with his pen. “If it were a woman, I think we have a name for her. It was in the program notes before Griffon decided building a masculine robot would be a better challenge.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael looked up, curious. “What's that?”

Ryan smiled, gentle and considerate. “The robot's name was originally 'Lindsay.'”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last narrative chapter, but it is /not/ the final chapter. The next chapter will be an epilogue exploring Gavin and Michael after the story. It will be NSFW and focused mainly on sex, so if you want to skip it, go ahead. You won't miss anything important to the main story line.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the explicit and NSFW portion of the story. It doesn't relate to the main plot. Feel free to skip if you like.

Sex didn't happen for a while.

Between laying the ground work for the new project, which took up all the time at the lab and kept Michael's mind busy, and his recent vow to go out more with his coworkers, coming to dinner with them and spending evenings at the bowling alley or the go kart races without as much worry about Gavin and his safety in the public eye, he often came home tired and willing to do only the bare minimum before bed.

Gavin went with Michael's moods. If Michael collapsed on the couch to relax, Gavin sat quietly beside him, either participating in whatever Michael chose for the evening, or finding something else to occupy himself while Michael recuperated from a long day. Usually he picked either a book, borrowed from Geoff or picked off Michael's meager shelf selection, or, lately, logged in to the laptop and browsed Wikipedia, studying human culture. He asked questions between commercials or during a game pause, and Michael shot down anything that wasn't true or went against common sense, filling the rough knowledge of the Internet in with societal rules and customs. Sometimes, if he was particularly tired, Michael just lay on the couch and took a nap, forgetting about Gavin and his friends and the rest of the world for a while. Gavin tried a couple times to make dinner while he napped. The first time resulted in burnt leftovers in the microwave, and the second time the instant soup he made was so bland that Michael had to add several spices before he could stomach it.

All in all, the quiet nights suited them, as Gavin learned in his spare time and Michael worked out the kinks that standing at a lab desk all day left in him. There was no longer an urgent need for them to explore each other as they had the first few days together, so they didn't bring it up. Michael thought about it, watching Gavin move around the lab, the way his clothes stretched around his legs and the bit of stomach he saw when he stretched his arms, but he knew so little about the logistics of sexing up an artificial being that he didn't want to expend the energy working it out. Bringing it up with Geoff or Griffon was out of the question, even though Griffon was the one who argued for sexual functionality and designed the basics of the system that let Gavin get aroused. The day Michael asked his coworkers for sex advice was the day pigs flew, to be cliché about it.

But Gavin had read Griffon's romances, and continued reading them when lab work was slow and he didn't have the foresight to bring Michael's laptop or novels with him. She lent them happily, too caught up in the design process to care about what she was giving him. The innocent ones were what prompted Gavin's interest in kissing and romance. Once she gave him free reign on the collection, stuffed in the box beneath her desk, he got into the explicit work, and then it was only a matter of time before he asked Michael about it.

At home on a Friday night, with a book he'd stolen from Griffon to take home, Gavin asked Michael, “Why haven't we had sex yet?”

Michael, with a sip of soda halfway down his throat, choked, pulling the can back as he pounded on his chest and coughed harshly. Gavin started, putting the book in his lap and bending over, running a soothing hand down his back.

“Jesus,” Michael spat out, when he could speak again. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

In explanation, Gavin merely lifted the book for Michael to see. Michael cursed and snatched it away, setting it on the coffee table next to the little ticking heart he always kept close by. “I knew I should have told her not to let you read the rest,” he muttered, putting the soda can down too, before he leaned back and cleared his throat again. “Why do you care?” he asked, not dismissively but with the hope that Gavin might drop it. He still hadn't given much thought to how sex would work between them, and the thought honestly frightened him a little. There were so many ways it might go wrong.

Gavin leaned back with Michael, the pair now facing each other with their heads on the couch back. “We're in love, right?” He asked it casually, despite it being a heavy word. It had first come up one night, a couple weeks after learning Gavin could stay at the apartment, as Michael kissed Gavin before going to sleep. Gavin let it out softly, just as he entered sleep mode. The next morning Michael returned the sentiment, but it stayed rare for either of them to say it outright. More often, they tossed playful insults.

“Uh huh,” Michael said, putting a hand on Gavin's knee.

“Don't people in love have sex? That's what everyone in the books does.”

Michael had to pause and think before he answered, wondering idly how much he would have to pay Griffon to get rid of her books, or at least stop bringing them to the lab. “Not necessarily. Those books aren't that realistic. Some people don't want to have sex, for whatever reasons.”

“Does that include you?”

Well. Michael turned away to stare at the window. It was dark outside, the edges of light from the street lamps barely leaking in. Dark enough that if he wanted to, he could go to bed. But avoiding the question the way he had with kissing and romance wouldn't do him any good, and it might hurt Gavin's feelings. And he couldn't _lie_.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and looking back at Gavin. “I like sex a lot, Gav. It's just, I wasn't sure if it was something you wanted to do.”

Gavin smiled, and leaned in, pecking Michael's lips. “If it's as nice as that, I'd like it a lot, too.”

Sex was better than kissing, in his opinion. Only Gavin could decide if he liked it, though, and the only real way to determine that was to explore the option. They'd had heavy make outs and Michael knew Gavin's body could display the same arousal humans got. He usually stopped them before it went farther than some petting, and pants had never come off in front of each other. Gavin seemed to enjoy what they did thus far, but he had no gauge for how far that enjoyment went.

“Sex can be enjoyable.” Michael sat up, facing Gavin with one leg under him and the other on the floor, gathering up Gavin's hands to kiss the fingers, one at a time in the soft way Michael liked when he didn't have the energy for much else. “It's not for everybody though. I'm kinda wondering how it might work, even. You're not the same as a human.”

Gavin cocked his head. “Don't two men have sex when one them puts his--”

“Ah ah ah!” Michael yelled, covering Gavin's mouth with his hand. He did _not_ want to hear him describe whatever he learned in those dumb books. Since when did any of them have gay men in them? God damn it, Griffon. Michael took his hand away and sighed. “There's a lot of ways to have sex, Gav. How much do you know?”

“Wikipedia says a lot,” Gavin offered with a shrug.

Hrm. Maybe teaching as they went would be a better method. Michael clicked his tongue. “Okay, okay, lemme think.” He rubbed a hand through his hair, tugging the curls. “Would you want to, like, follow my lead? And see what happens? You can speak up if I do anything you don't like and we can, you know, talk and stuff.” God, this was embarrassing. He was practically giving the sex talk to a grown man, that grown man's origins be damned. Ray hadn't taught him anything useful in his programming. The next robot they built would at least have some rules on human interaction, for Pete's sake.

Gavin smiled, and kissed him, harder than before. It was the kiss he did when he was happy and not necessarily looking for anything, as opposed to the nights when he felt lonely and needed Michael's attention, or when he was bored and he wanted affection to fill the time. Michael's hands went to his face immediately, opening to him and sweeping his tongue over Gavin's lips.

Before long they wound up with Michael on the couch and Gavin over him, hips pressed tight together as they kissed and touched, Gavin nosing in Michael's neck and licking stripes up the side. The biggest disadvantage of Gavin being a robot was that, with the lack of saliva, his touches were warm but not wet, and any moisture on Michael's skin came from the fluids he passed to Gavin. There weren't any openings in Gavin's mouth or throat; his artificial breathing was designed to evaporate anything that he might swallow by accident if the amount was small enough, and the system was closed so it didn't leak elsewhere. Still, even without body fluids, Gavin's tongue was warm like the rest of him and he touched Michael while he worked, one hand on his hip with the thumb rubbing his hip bone through his shirt, the other one his chest and massaging the skin, occasionally pressing and pinching his nipple. Everything Gavin did, he'd learned from Michael at some point, taking what Michael did to him and throwing it back, humming happily when he groaned and writhed against him.

It was how he learned that Michael liked to be underneath him. When they got raunchy in bed or on the couch, Michael was loudest with Gavin on top of him, the touches and kisses never getting as much of a reaction if Gavin was the one on the bottom. He seemed happy to take over, and Michael thanked whatever force gave him someone so accommodating. The way Michael had to guide him everywhere else, he figured he would be the leader in bed, too, but as soon as Gavin understood what to do, he eagerly took charge.

It ended now with a tentative push on Michael's crotch. Gavin had slid his hand from his chest and pushed against the jeans, drawing a thrust and a shocked, “ _Fuck_ ,” from Michael. He jumped back, eyes wide, and hovered over him. 

“Was that-- good?” Gavin stuttered, glancing between where his hand was still against Michael's cock and his face, worried but tentatively hopeful.

About to say, 'yes of course,' Michael stopped, looking Gavin in the eyes. He kept forgetting he was dealing with someone with zero sexual experience, waiting for his answer on everything they did. So he licked his lips and nodded, thrusting shallowly again to push on Gavin's hand, letting out a little groan. “Yeah, it was good,” he said. “Touching cocks is generally a good thing, Gavin, but I'll tell you right now not to be too rough, okay?”

Gavin beamed, leaning in to kiss down his neck again, as he pressed with the heel of his palm. Michael threw his head back, hips coming off the couch. One hand tangled in Gavin's hair, careful not to pull too hard because it wouldn't grow back if it got pulled out, and the other went over the edge of the couch, skimming the carpet. Gavin lifted his shirt with his free hand and touched Michael's chest, hotter without the cloth to stop him, eventually moving his face there to kiss and bite gently, all while he worked Michael's erection with an eager hand. Michael closed his eyes tight and tried to enjoy it, but he couldn't move far without risking falling off the couch and, though he liked the treatment, he didn't want Gavin to get nothing out of this. With a reluctant sigh, he pushed with his knees to get Gavin away, pulling back and sitting up. “Bedroom,” Michael said, his tone stern with no room for argument.

Not that Gavin would have protested. He reveled in the ability to sleep in the bed, after Michael stole the blankets from the couch and ordered him to spend the rest of his nights in the bedroom. Gavin had refused before they started the new project, insisting on the couch each evening, but Michael suspected it had more to do with Gavin being unsure of Michael's comfort levels. They spent almost every night curled around each other now, the only exception being if Michael crashed on the couch and Gavin tucked himself in the tiny space behind him, unwilling to sleep without him any longer.

The bed was better by far, though, and Gavin eagerly tugged Michael off the couch to rush down the hall. On the way, Michael unbuttoned his pants and took off his shirt, breaking the hold Gavin had on his hand to yank it off. He nearly stumbled in the attempt, caught on the sides by Gavin and roughly kissed as soon as he dropped the material. Gavin opened his mouth to him and hummed, hands sliding from his side to his back and sinking in there. Thankfully they gave Gavin short nails, and the press was a satisfying kind of scratch, like relieving an all day itch. Michael let his hands fall and grab Gavin's ass, smiling into the mess of tongue and lips when Gavin squeaked. He did that every time Michael grabbed at him when he didn't expect it. The first couple times Michael had asked if he should stop, but Gavin would only grind back into the touch and Michael took that as a hard 'don't you dare fucking stop' and greedily explored his body with nimble fingers.

On the bed, Gavin tried to scramble over Michael again, ready to shower him in attention. Michael grabbed his shoulder and shoved him hard into the mattress, smirking while he flipped on the bedside lamp to better see Gavin and his frustrated pout. “My turn,” he said, working to get Gavin's shirt and pants off. His own were hanging loose off his hips, his forest green boxers peeking over the edge. Michael had yet to undress Gavin like this, happy to let him be as dressed or undressed as he was comfortable with, and the complacency of Gavin as he wriggled into his touch, lifting and tucking his limbs to help discard the clothes, sent a pleasant thrum through him. For a brand new experience, Gavin seemed to be taking it in stride, unlike the many times he made a production of it and asked a million questions about what was going on.

With only boxers and panting hard, Gavin stared up at Michael, waiting. He didn't stay that way for long, Michael dipping in to kiss him again and grind their hips together. Creating an anatomically accurate design might be the greatest thing Griffon did for him; Michael could feel Gavin's obvious erection through the underwear, and he gasped as Michael pressed his own on it, reaching a hand down to stroke him. “ _ Mi _ chael,” Gavin said, feet planted on the bed to gain leverage and push into his grip. He slipped the boxers off, too, to get a better hold and put a hand on Gavin's thigh as he touched him. 

“Guess the pleasure sensors work down here, too, huh?” Michael smiled into his neck and nipped lightly, wary of breaking the skin. Repair would be an entire affair, and neck damage would most certainly be mocked by the team. It was like giving hickies, except he couldn't hide it if he did anything permanent. Michael didn't spend long there, more eager to focus on Gavin's cock and kiss him distractedly.

It was only a matter of time before his own pants got restricting. He paused in his attempts to turn Gavin into a puddle to unzip his jeans and kick them off, taking his boxers with them. Freed from his clothes, Michael indulged in a couple strokes to his own cock with his other hand, rubbing the tip of Gavin's as he played with himself.

With their clothes off, both hot and panting, Michael couldn't help staring a little. He lamented the lack of flush to Gavin's skin, with no blood in his body to make him blush, but the half lidded eyes and open mouth made up for it. He kissed him and pushed their cocks against each other, rutting into the dip of Gavin's hip. Skin to skin contact was almost too much, warmer than it should be in the lazy Austin evening. Michael mouthed Gavin's lips and cheek, nosing in his hair and pressing forward, toes curling.

“Michael, Michael, wait.” Gavin patted a hand on his back and shoved with his chest, urging Michael up and off him until they were both sitting up. “You said we could talk?” Gavin asked, with the virtue of sounding perfectly coherent despite his arousal. Michael envied him that; he wasn't sure if he could answer properly, and took a moment to breath before he said anything.

“Sure, yeah, talk.” He nodded, though he hadn't the foggiest what the hell they would say. His romantic history was sparse, and practically ended when he got serious about earning his degree. He'd never really talked with partners about sex. They just dove in, and spoke up when they didn't like anything. It usually consisted of kissing, sucking dick, and fucking, none of which Gavin knew anything about firsthand. Wikipedia only taught so much. “Well?” he asked, with a side glance at Gavin, when nothing came to mind. He was still hard and focusing on anything proved difficult. It'd be easier to _tell_ Gavin what to do. But that was also pretty selfish.

Gavin tilted his head, thinking. “The stuff online says a lot of guys have anal sex.”

Michael nodded again, unsure of what else to do. Part of him was tempted to stroke his dick while they talked, but he ignored it, looking at Gavin instead. “We can do that, if you want.” It would be complicated. Michael quite definitively remembered Griffon arguing with Gus about making the design capable of mimicking human orgasm; when Griffon said she would make their robot human like, she _meant_ it. Eventually they agreed, and Griffon practically did a victory parade as Gus helped her build the nerve system that would sense pleasure and pain on a human scale. They never tested it, though. Michael couldn't be sure Gavin would get much more out of their night than the pleasure from kissing and touching he already got. “You won't ejaculate,” Michael said suddenly, blushing. That was where Michael and Ryan drew the line on the actual building aspect of the project, before the thought of being attracted to Gavin had ever occurred to him.

“I didn't think so,” Gavin said, shrugging. “I don't have body fluids, right?”

“No. I think you'll get similar pleasure, though. I can't be sure.”

Gavin laid back on the bed, stretching across one side. Michael shifted to lie with him, facing Gavin and running a hand up and down his side. Gavin smiled and scooted closer, hooking their legs together. “I don't have any experience,” Gavin said, “so, let me ask, what is it that you usually do?”

That was easy. Michael shrugged. “Basic stuff. I've been with different people, but it usually ends with somebody's dick getting stuck in someone else.”

Gavin giggled, from the image or the crude language, Michael wasn't sure. “Are you the one that does the sticking, then?”

“Usually. Although.” Michael stopped, ducking his head. “To be honest, I was the bottom sometimes. I liked it.” Just the vague sense of the memories floating through his mind almost brought his erection back. He had liked bottoming quite a bit, the feeling of letting someone else take control and the heat and stretch of muscles.

“Well, then.” Gavin tipped Michael's face back up with one hand and nuzzled under his jaw, licking the slight stubble he left after too many days in the lab and a loss of care for morning grooming. “Why don't we do that? I'd need you to show me, though.”

Michael's breath hitched as Gavin continued kissing down his neck, coming close and wrapping his arms around him. It took a moment to process Gavin's words, and go over the possibilities of doing it either way. The parts of Gavin's design that allowed him to simulate sex had been kept hush hush, to avoid accusations of using university grants to create sex toys, but he could conceivably have sex as either the giver or receiver. But putting anything inside him would mean having to clean it later, even if they used condoms, because lube was a thing, and Michael _did_ like bottoming anyway, so all around it was better to have Gavin be the one topping.

With the reasoning worked out in his head as an agreeable situation, Michael came back to the present, to see Gavin working his way down his chest, and lower. He put a hand on his head, pulling him back just a bit, to look him in the eyes. “That's what you want to do?” he asked, gulping down air at the sight of where Gavin intended to go. “You want to fuck me?”

With a little kiss to his stomach, Gavin grinned. “As long as you teach me what to do.”

Michael nodded and Gavin hurriedly returned to his stomach, nipping here and there on the pale, hairless skin. One hand on his hip turned him over until Michael lay on his back again. Gavin adjusted himself with both legs either side of Michael, curled over his abdomen and still kissing. He licked a few times around his hips, grinning when Michael gasped and pushed his pelvis up. “Gavin, come on,” he begged, lifting his head to try and throw a glare that didn't come across harsh at all, his face flushed red and lips hanging open.

Gavin looked down at the object of his ventures. Michael's cock had gone back to full hardness, sticking up just slightly from his stomach and dripping. “All right,” Gavin said, sitting up a little. “But, ah, I'm not kidding.” He grinned sheepishly. “I really do need you to teach me.”

Right, that. Michael groaned and sat up on his elbows. Gavin was quick to put a hand to his chest, chastising him. “No, lovely, lay down, just.” He sat back again, looking at his erection. “ _Tell_ me what to do.”

Michael's nostrils flared as he stared at the ceiling, unsure where else to look. “You can start by stroking it,” he said, turning to lay his head sideways on the pillow. “Like I was doing before.”

That seemed to click well with Gavin. He'd gotten good at imitating Michael, learning from his demonstrations. He couldn't help looking down again, awkward as the angle was, to watch Gavin place a careful hand on him, enclosing his cock and giving a gentle squeeze. Michael moaned encouragingly, perhaps a little too loud to sound convincing, but Gavin beamed and got a tighter grip, moving his hand up and down.

The pressure was too hard. Michael cleared his throat after a moment, and said, “Not so tight.” When Gavin obliged, he relaxed into it, enjoying having his cock taken care of for the first time in too long. Gavin squeezed and thumbed the head, sometimes twisting his hand but always gentle after the first warning, watching Michael to suss out any reactions he didn't verbalize.

Michael panted and thrust a couple times, feeling the pleasure run down his spine and shiver down his limbs in that delicious way he liked. It wasn't the best handjob, but Gavin was trying and he couldn't deny the feeling made him squirm a little, his body eager to get off with something other than his own hand.

His eyes, closed to enjoy the sensations, flung open when Gavin stuck his tongue out and licked. It felt _weird_ , to have someone lick his dick and not get any actual moisture from it, but Gavin's tongue was hotter than his hand and the way he ran it up and down the shaft made Michael fist his hands in the sheets. He moved to the head again, enclosing it gently and pushing his tongue on the tip, swirling it before he came off and mouthed the shaft again. All the while his hand squeezed and stroked, running from the base and up to meet his mouth. Michael inhaled fast, tempted to let Gavin get him off just like this. But it wasn't what they agreed on, and he was eager to see the rest of what they could do with each other.

“Gavin, Gav,” he called, looking up. Gavin detached from his cock, curious. “I'm gonna blow my fucking load if we don't take a break,” he said, with breathy laughter and an embarrassed blush that only added to the flush of his skin. “Come here a minute, we gotta talk more anyway.”

Gavin crawled up the sheets to lay with Michael, curled into his side. While he willed himself to calm down and get a grip, Michael leaned over and fiddled with his bedside drawer. He inspected the nearest tube in the low light, checking the expiration on it. Luckily lube had a long shelf life. He turned back to Gavin and showed him the tube. “You know what this is, right?”

“Sexual lubricant?” Gavin said, sounding like he rattled the answer off a page.

Michael nodded and popped the cap with his thumb, squeezing until a small dot came out. “We need this if we're gonna fuck, otherwise it hurts like hell. I can get myself ready, I just wanted to be sure you knew what this was.”

“Mm.” Gavin reached out, taking it the tube and glancing over it. “There's nothing in here incompatible with my material, right?”

“Nah.” Michael paused, and grabbed it again. It wasn't silicone based, was it? He squinted at the label. No, the tube said water based. Thank god, the _worst_ combinations were silicone plastic and silicone lube, a lesson Michael learned when an old girlfriend screeched at him for mindlessly putting the wrong kind of lube on her toys. They had melted the next day. The materials broke each other down, and if Gavin touched it, they'd have a serious problem. Water, however, would be harmless. “Okay, yeah, this is good,” he said, double checking the ingredients list. “It's water based. But still.” He looked Gavin in the eye. “Let's use a condom just in case, okay? I'd kill myself if you got damaged because I didn't have the right supplies.”

Gavin blinked, and nodded, not bothering to ask why. Michael almost wondered if he would, until he got attacked by kisses again, Gavin pressing close and sweeping his tongue across Michael's lips. “Can we keep going?” he asked impatiently, nosing his cheek.

Michael laughed, fuller this time, and put a hand on his back to rub down the skin. “Of course, Gav. Lemme get myself ready. You can play with your dick while I do it, if you want.”

They shifted, with Gavin at the end of the bed, sitting back with crossed legs, while Michael leaned on the pillows and spread himself. He blushed at the way Gavin raked his eyes up and down his body, but he was staring at Gavin, too, so he kept his mouth shut. He tipped the lube over and squirted a good amount on his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up. Michael glanced back at Gavin, and nearly choked at the sight of him.

Gavin had taken Michael's advice, supporting himself on one hand and masturbating with the other, running his hand up and down the length and squeezing the head every few strokes. His eyes had nearly closed, waiting patiently for Michael to get himself ready. He swallowed thickly at the sight. “All right,” Michael muttered, shifting on his ass again. It had been a while since he'd let someone fuck him, and even longer since he prepared himself for it. It was easier to let someone else do the work. For their first time, though, he didn't quite trust Gavin to do it right, and he wasn't up for being patient with him about it.

As it usually did, the first finger made him wriggle uncomfortably, sighing as he pushed in. God, he wished he could go straight to sex without the in between, all the fussing and fumbling and stretching. Even when he wasn't the one getting it, it took time and energy. It _would_ be worth it, in the end, and Michael tried to keep that in mind as he pushed his index finger inside, watching Gavin's reaction. The way his eyes went wide, how his mouth opened and closed and at one point he groaned at the sight, did more for Michael than the penetration. Now that he thought about it, the programming for attraction must have been interesting as all hell, and maybe it wouldn't kill him to have Ray try and look at it. They hadn't made Gavin with human relationships beside casual friendship in mind, and certainly didn't predict his love for Michael. Maybe attraction was more socialized than people cared to admit.

His finger found his prostate then, hitting the spot as Michael got distracted with his thoughts, and he gasped, bucking into it. “Fuck, fuck, there it is,” he whispered, stroking along the same spot as he pushed his finger in and out. He was quick to press his middle finger in on the next stroke, opening himself up and swearing every time he hit the right spot.

“What happened?” Gavin, entranced with the entire process, broke out of it long enough to look him in the face again. “What'd you do?”

“Prostate,” Michael gasped, slowing to a halt. “It's this nerve bunch you can hit, it's the main thing that makes anal sex awesome with some people. Ideally it's what you'd aim for when fucking me.”

“Oh.” He looked between Michael's legs again, running his tongue along his bottom lip. “It feels that good?”

Michael pushed in again and sighed, head thrown back. “Fuck _yes_.”

There was only so much self pleasure he could take, and Gavin looked about ready to burst, whether he was capable of coming or not. Michael stretched himself for a couple more minutes and took his fingers out, reaching back to the drawer for a condom. “This'll keep any lube off you until I can be sure I bought something safe. Should be fine, but, you know, precautions.” Michael tossed the condom at Gavin, chuckling as he struggled to catch it. “Do you know how it works?”

“Um.” Gavin looked down at the square of foil, and back at Michael. “No.”

“Pfft.” Michael grinned, turning on hands and knees to crawl close and snatch it. “I'll do it, hang on.” He sat with his legs under him and ripped the foil open, pinching the tip and rolling it carefully on Gavin, who gasped at the touch and thrust into his hand. “Calm down,” he said, although he was getting pretty worked up, too, if the throb to his groin were any indication. Satisfied, Michael leaned back, legs open, propped on elbows. “Come here, Gav”

Gavin shuffled over, holding his dick awkwardly and tilting his head. “I just put it in you?”

“Oh my _God_.” Michael shook his head. “Didn't Wikipedia teach you anything?”

“In theory, yeah, but nothing about positions and crap. I don't know what to do!”

“Fine, fine.” He sat up and kissed Gavin, hands cupping his face until the pouting stopped, and broke away to turn over on his stomach. “This, then. It's easier.” Michael reached back and pulled one of his ass cheeks away, smirking over his shoulder. “Push it in _slow_ and get a rhythm. I'll help you, don't worry.”

Fairly sure Gavin's skin would be flaming if he could blush, Michael watched, bemused, as Gavin crawled over him and positioned himself, holding Michael open with one hand and directing his cock with the other. With his hand free, Michael brought it back up and settled both arms under his chin. There was some pushing, and a grunt from Gavin, pressure at his entrance until the head pushed in and _oh_ that felt damn good. Michael lost the confident grin in favor of a quiet moan, fingers clenching in the sheets as Gavin steadied himself and pushed deeper. Michael buried his face in the pillows, clenching unconsciously as Gavin bottomed out. Yeah, he _definitely_ liked bottoming.

“Okay?” Gavin braced himself with both hands either side of Michael's shoulders, chin hooked over one side and breathing against his face.

Michael turned and kissed him, lingering on his lips and stealing a few gentle bites. “More than okay,” he said, breathing heavily. “It feels great, Gav. Just, start slow, and I'll tell you when to pick up the pace. You're doing good.”

Gavin smiled and pecked him one last time, hands going to Michael's hips for leverage. He thrust shallowly once, watching for Michael's reaction, thrusting again when he nodded. The steady slide inside of him and the tight hold Gavin had on his hips, combined with the friction of his cock on the mattress, quickly had Michael pushing back, desperate for contact. He did his best to refrain from asking Gavin to go faster right away, glancing at him over his shoulder a few times to check on him. Gavin had his eyes shut and his focus on the actual thrusting, with an occasional kiss to Michael's shoulders blades or a squeeze of his fingers as little intimacies to remind Michael he wasn't just focused on himself. Michael appreciated it, pushing in tandem and letting out noises of approval.

“Can I, uh.” Gavin hesitated in his movements, breathing hard as his system sought ventilation for the work he was putting his body through. Michael glanced over his shoulder again to meet his eyes. “How do I hit it? Your prostate?” Gavin steadied his hands on Michael as he asked, letting out a little nervous laugh.

Michael grunted as he shifted, clenching around Gavin inside him. He awkwardly brought a hand up to stroke Gavin's cheek, pulling him in for a kiss and nudging his lips open. Gavin made a little noise but didn't stop him, letting Michael lose them both in the hot connection for a while.

Satisfied, Michael took his hand back and lifted his torso up a little. “You gotta aim toward my stomach, it's like right near the front. Hang on, can you pull out?”

Gavin nodded and sat up, too fast for Michael's liking. He whined at the sudden emptiness, biting his lip between his teeth to stifle himself. Gavin stopped and bent back over him. “Did that hurt?” he asked in quiet panic.

“No, no, just, it was quick.” Michael put a hand over Gavin's on his shoulder as he moved, lifting his knees under him and pushing off the bed, back onto hands and knees. “This should make it easier,” he said, spreading his knees a bit. “It's not hard, don't worry.” He smirked to himself. “Although I can think of a couple things that _are_ pretty hard.”

Gavin tilted his head, brow furrowed. “What?”

His smile faltered. “It-- I was joking, Gavin, nevermind.” Michael puffed out a little sigh and let his head hang down, wiggling his hips. “Come on, get back in me. I wanna get fucked.”

Gavin huffed out a breath, sitting up behind him. His hands found Michael's hips again, this time dancing up and down his sides, playing with the extra room he had. His knees sat inside Michael's own on the bed, knocking against them as he positioned himself. Michael could feel the head of his cock again, still warm and hard. He pushed back, letting out a guttural sound from the back of his throat as Gavin pushed in him. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned, hands digging in the sheets. “Fuck, Gavin, fuck me, please.”

“Can do.” He could _hear_ the smirk, just before Gavin started to thrust and Michael lost focus on being witty in wake of the fullness and the stretch.

The position made it easier for Gavin to keep his balance and not crush Michael under his weight as he moved, and it helped, his movements faster and more powerful. Michael grunted with each in thrust, biting down on his bottom lip, pressing back as much as he could. Gavin's speed picked up and Michael gasped, a choked noise of not quite there pleasure. A little bit more and he could feel Gavin shifting, he almost _had it--_

Michael cried out and shoved back into Gavin, limbs shaking and struggling to hold him up. Gavin laughed, hot and delighted at his reaction. He angled again and his cock ran along that spot every couple thrusts, Gavin watching Michael's reactions and getting better as he did, finding exactly where he needed to push to have Michael trembling.

Soon, he reached down and wrapped his hand around Michael's cock, stroking in time to his thrusts, curling over his back to kiss down the skin again. “You feel good,” Gavin muttered, but didn't appear to be up for dirty talk, losing his voice to a throaty growl halfway through. Michael clenched around him every time he remembered to, determined to make Gavin feel as good as he did.

He gasped, caught between Gavin's cock and his hand, and it really wasn't a surprise when he yelled and came, arms collapsing under him as he worked his hips to chase his orgasm. Gavin kept squeezing and thrusting until it hurt, and Michael whined, batting his hand away. “Stop, stop,” he begged, waving his hand wildly behind him to signal. Gavin did stop, and pulled out, crawling to his side with worried eyes.

“What's wrong, did I mess it up?” Gavin asked, fumbling to hold Michael, unable to curl into him or kiss his face while Michael lie face down, ass up on the mattress. Michael shook his head, panting heavily. Gavin waited while he got his breath back, fiddling with the sheets and glancing between Michael and his backside, as if he'd somehow injured him.

Michael slid down, letting his legs fall, and turned on his side. “Fuck,” he said, eyes fluttering closed. “Geez, Gav, that was fucking fantastic.”

“I didn't do anything wrong?”

“No, course not.” He brought an arm up, opening his body to Gavin, who obligingly laid down with him and snuggled close. Michael noted with interest that Gavin's dick had gone flaccid. He reached down and pulled the condom off, tossing it as well as he could in the trash, although he didn't bother checking when he tossed it over his shoulder.

Gavin, still panicked, ignored Michael's settling into the bed and asked, “But you asked me to stop, I thought--”

“Gav,” Michael said, patting him, hard, a couple times on the back. “If you go too long, my dick gets sensitive and it starts to hurt. You didn't do anything, it's just that orgasms don't last forever.”

“Oh.” Gavin blinked, unable to look him in the eyes and instead settling for staring at his chest. “Nothing online mentioned that.”

“There's not a whole lot of focus on what to do afterward. But.” He smiled and tucked Gavin under his chin, kissing the top of his head. “You did a great job. Was it--” Michael hesitated. “Did it feel good for you? It didn't feel like, you know.” Michael sighed and looped a leg around Gavin's, pulling him closer. He needed to work on this whole pillow talk thing.

Gavin shook his head, hair scraping Michael's face. “I don't think I orgasmed--”

Michael laughed and gave a quiet groan. “Don't say it like that, you sound too scientific or whatever. Use slang.”

He pulled back to glare at Michael and stuck his tongue out. “I didn't _come_ ,” he said with a mocking sneer, “but it felt really good. And there was, like, this electric pulse? It felt like lightning or something going through my body from my knob.”

Michael urged Gavin to cuddle with him again, humming as he thought over his answer. “That doesn't sound too different from coming,” he murmured. The sleepy after effects of sex were catching up to him fast. He dredged up enough energy to say, “Griffon wanted to program you to come, pretty much just to see if it was possible. I think if I hadn't taken you in she might've dragged you home and tried to test it eventually. You must have a similar reaction in your sensors, just without the same mess as humans do. I'll have to double check our old notes to see what triggers it specifically.”

Gavin shuddered as he spoke. “Griffon wanted to _test_ that? Isn't she monogamous with Geoff?”

Michael snorted. “Not as much as you'd think, and I'm sure she would excuse your non human status as evidence she didn't cheat. That, or she'd let Geoff join in.”

Another shudder, and Gavin pressed that much harder into Michael. “They're like parents,” he said, nosing into his collarbone. “I don't think I could ever have sex with them, it'd be weird.”

“How do you know what parents are like?” Michael asked, ruffling his hair. “But yeah, I think it'd be weird, too. Don't worry.” He reached down and aggressively grabbed Gavin's ass, forcing a high pitched squeak from him. “I got all the sex testing covered.”

Gavin scrambled to get away from his hand, toppling them over so Michael was on his back again. He swatted his hand away and curled at his side, gripping tight around his shoulders to stop any free movement. “Hey!” Michael protested, struggling. Gavin giggled and held tighter, making it hard for Michael to breath through his laughter. “Okay, okay, I give!”

When they had settled down and the laughs gave way to soft breathing, with Gavin resting his head on Michael's chest and both of them tucked under the blankets, Michael let his mind wander while the edges of sleep tugged at his mind. He wanted a minute to let the severity of what he'd just done sink in.

He had sex with an android.

Possibly the first person to do so, actually. Beside him, Gavin traced lazy circles into his skin, waiting for Michael to fall asleep so he could do the same. Michael glanced at him, and up at the ceiling. If he ever let it slip, Griffon really would want to know how it worked. Obviously Gavin couldn't have fluids in his system, but everything else imitated human sex well enough. Gavin said he liked it, and he could feel the evidence of his own pleasure in the sticky traces by his legs. Seemed like a success to him.

Speaking of sticky traces, though. Michael grimaced. “I have to take a shower,” he said, sitting up and jostling Gavin from his place.

Gavin whined, catching his hand as he stood. “I thought you were going to sleep!”

“Yeah, well.” Michael tugged his hand free. “Not covered in sweat and jizz, I'm not.”

He got about two steps into the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom when he heard Gavin behind him. He sighed and turned, raising an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Gavin started, and fidgeted. “What do I do?” he asked, gesturing to his own body. No sweat of his own, but Michael didn't leave him squeaky clean after an hour of grasping and thrusting, not to mention the saliva from all the kisses and licks.

Bending under the sink, Michael opened the cabinet and pulled out one of the small towels stacked on the left, tossing it at Gavin. He yelped and caught it, looking down at the cloth and up at Michael. “Get it damp with the faucet,” Michael said, turning the water off and on to demonstrate, “and wipe everything down. It should come off easily, but if it doesn't, use a little bit of soap.”

“Can I stay in here, while you shower?”

Michael pursed his lips, head cocked as he considered it. The steam wouldn't be the best for Gavin, but he was built to be resilient, and if they left the door open so the steam escaped . . .

“All right,” he said, “but don't close the door or else the steam could damage you.” It would make the shower cold, leaving it open like that, but Gavin was smiling now as he wet the towel and started scrubbing his legs, and Michael couldn't shove him out of the bathroom just because he liked the feeling of the steam clogging the air until it burned his every inhale. No, he'd let Gavin be and deal with it.

The first step into the shower was heavenly, soaking his aching muscles and washing the top layers of sweat and filth off him. It had been too long since his last romp in the hay; his ass was sore and his legs sent up a twinge of residual protest as he turned to get water over his entire body. Nothing that a bit more rigorous exercise wouldn't help, though.

“Michael?”

Naturally, Gavin wanted to chat. Michael grabbed the soap and lathered it in his hands and said, “Yeah, Gav?”

“You don't regret being with me, do you?”

Michael stopped, and grabbed the curtain, yanking it aside to shoot Gavin a dumbfounded look, ignoring the way the cool air hit his skin. “What the hell makes you wanna ask that?”

Gavin was sitting on the toilet next to the shower, still scrubbing his skin. He stopped in the middle of washing his belly, idle hands tossing the towel back and forth. “I can't have sex exactly the same way,” he murmured, “and my body's a little different. I don't have pheromones for attraction or anything.”

Michael shoved the curtain back, the soap in his hand reminding him that he was in the middle of something. Over the sound of the water, he said, “Pheromones? What the shit does that have to do with how I feel?”

“W-Well!” Gavin stuttered. “Humans have traits to attract mates, and it's all this organic stuff that I don't have, and we can't even really tell if I can come or not because _I_ don't know what it's like and you can't tell for sure, and I just thought--”

He was cut off with a swift slap to the top of his head. Michael had pulled the curtain again and bopped him with a soapy hand, leaving little bubbles in his hair. “Don't be ridiculous,” he said, returning to his shower. “If any of that stuff mattered to me, I wouldn't have been friends with you at all. Hell, look at Ray. All the scientific junk gets to him and he still can't really treat you like a human. But me? You know I don't give a shit. I love you for you, no matter what you're made of.” Michael paused, and smiled to himself, remembering what Jack told him the night he'd struggled with Joel's threats and his own feelings. “And the way I figure it, if you act and look like a guy who loves me, who the hell is to say that you aren't? I chose you for you, Gavin, not for any 'organic' body or whatever the hell. So don't worry about it.” He finished washing himself and rinsed off quickly, pulling the curtain away and grabbing a towel to rub down.

Before he could do that, Gavin had encased him in a hug, bending a little so he could bury his face in Michael's chest. “Thank you,” he whispered, standing proper and pressing a kiss to his temple. “I don't mean to be a piss pot, I just had to ask.”

Michael snorted, stepping back. “I'm glad you're pleased, Gavin. But.” He looked pointedly down at Gavin's body, slow to scan up from the floor and admire every inch because it was still new and it would be a very long time before he got tired of staring. “I'm still wet and you just covered yourself in water. You have to dry off all over again.”

Gavin's lips twisted in a grin at his mock annoyance, pulling Michael in for another hug. “Maybe it'd be better to go to bed wet, anyway.”

And Michael couldn't help laughing, clasping his arms around Gavin, water dripping off his body and the warmth of his lover filling him to the brim.

 


End file.
